Hero
by Anya-Paradox
Summary: He was so close, so very close; then she stumbled out of that barn, a walker. Daryl wasn't fast enough to save her, and now, the only thing left to do is save Carol. But maybe, she'll be the one to save him?
1. Mourn

**Hero**

_by Anya_

**Chapter 1: Mourn**

A/N: So, this is my first Walking Dead fic, please be kind! I think I got all details right, but if I didn't let me know and I will definitely make a note of it! Enjoy and review :)

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><p>It was all a blur; more than that, it was a painful blur. Daryl didn't remember much beyond lifting Carol in his arms and taking her to the RV. He knew he had set her on the bed, her sobs racking her thin frame. He had slammed the door in the face of the overly concerned Dale, with a echoing "fuck you". He had slumped against the wall, and with every cry of mourning Carol uttered he had hated himself more.<p>

Shane and Rick were arguing, their voices heard even through the thin insulation of the RV. Footsteps were heard above him, probably Dale or Glenn keeping watch. Praying that every gunshot that had echoed in the farm fields hadn't been heard by walkers for miles.

Carol was silent now, and Daryl wondered if she had drifted off to sleep. He wondered why he had bothered to carry her in here, and stay, when the one damn thing he wanted to do was go out and shoot Herschel and Shane, and probably beat the living hell out of anyone who got in his way. Carol tended to bring out his reasonable side.

Perhaps he was too out of sorts; he hadn't thought straight since he had heard the last walker in the barn. He had known, deep down, that it was her. As soon as he had heard the weak growls and footsteps. Who else could be so delicate? Even as a zombie she had been nothing but innocence. And they had shot her in the fucking face.

He savagely ran his hands through his short hair, wishing he could tear it out. Wishing he had looked harder for a little girl who was lost. Wishing he had been under the car beside her, when the walkers had initially swarmed the road block, instead of Rick. He could have saved her; he would have saved her.

And now she was gone, dead on the ground. Carol had lost her daughter, and Daryl wasn't a hero any longer.

The thought was cruel, and terrible, but he had it none the less. When Sophia had been gone, Daryl, for the first time in his entire miserable life, had been the good guy. Everyone had looked at him differently, not the 'red neck hillbilly' that he had always been judged to be. Carol looked at him differently.

Now he was just a piece of shit, same as always. Merle would have told him that, woulda said "don't waste your goddamn time, Daryl. She ain't your kid." That burned Daryl, the thought of Merle's words. Merle was dead, or as good as. What the hell did he know about little girls, and heroism.

Sophia wasn't his kid, but her own damn daddy was dead, and even before that he was a sick sonofabitch. If he could turn back time he would have shot an arrow in his head weeks before the walkers got at him. He hadn't deserved Carol; she was kind, and gentle, and the best mother he could have wanted for his child. A far cry better than Daryl's own mother, who left at the first sign of trouble.

His body was cramping, and he wanted to move. He'd been sitting against the wall for so long. The sky was dark, and any signs of argument from the camp had disappeared.

It was Carol though, that called him back to reality. That forced him to move.

"Daryl?" She called, her voice hoarse from her crying.

He leapt to his feet, rushing to the back corner of the RV. Carol was sitting against the wall on the bed, her fingers clutched around the Cherokee Rose. Her dark eyes were luminescent with tears, but she smiled -smiled!- at him so softly and gentle. She was consoling him, and she was the one who had lost her daughter. Daryl hated himself for that.

"You need anythin'?" He asked, sitting on the bed opposite her.

She nodded, "Yeah, I need to thank you."

He gaped at her, "What?"

"I need to thank you. You looked for her. You never gave up, even when it almost killed you." She choked up, "You are a good man, Daryl Dixon."

She was staring at him then, with her dark eyes filled with tears, and Daryl couldn't help but notice that it was like she still saw him as a hero. Still saw him as the man that was going to save her daughter, and bring Sophia home. It was more than he could take and he stood up, clearing his throat.

"I'll bring you some food, or sumthin. You need to sleep." He muttered, shoving himself out the doorframe. Carol didn't call him back, and he raced out of the camper like some kind of coward.

There was some stew on the table, covered with a lid of some sort. Daryl assumed Lori left it out for Carol, and went straight for it. There were two bowls beside, and he realized she had thought of him too. He almost smiled, but caught himself before he could do so.

"How's she doing?" Dale's voice was soft, trying not to wake anyone.

Daryl shrugged up at him, holding the two soup bowls up as if to say she was eating, at least.

Dale nodded, "Thats good."

"No walkers?" He asked.

Dale held the rifle up, as if in confusion, "Not so far. I'm amazed, so I'm being careful."

"You do that." Daryl headed back to the RV, careful not to spill the soups. Carol was sitting in the bed in the same place he had left her, staring at her hands. He handed her a bowl and a spoon.

"Sorry, it's not hot." He murmured, settling back to eat his meal. He was starved, and the soup tasted like heaven, even lukewarm.

Carol finished hers quickly, moving as if to take Daryl's empty bowl from his hand.

"No, you rest. I'll clean them." He snapped, a little harsher than intended. He wasn't particularly fond of playing mother hen, and it showed in his temper.

He dumped the bowls in the RV's sink, pouring some soup and pre-boiled water over them. It probably wasn't entirely sanitary to wash with cold water, but it was post apocalypse time and he wasn't exactly worried about germs these days. Other than those that infected through bites.

"Ed always made me wash up. No matter what. I would have been washing up now, crying over the sink, and he would have just sat here while his daughter was missing." Her voice was sad, and angry, and bitter, all at the same time, and Daryl hated it. He'd never heard Carol sound so heartbroken, and he didn't like it. He was supposed to be the fucked up one, not her.

"Ed was a moron." He told her viciously. Comforting wasn't his forte, but that was the cold hard truth.

She let out a noise that was half laugh, half sob. "He was. He was that."

He heard her lay down, pull the covers over her shoulders.

"Carol," his voice was incredibly soft, probably the softest he'd ever heard it, "I think they'll want to bury her tomorrow."

Her breath was audible, and shaky. "I know. Daryl, you'll be there right? At her funeral?"

"Of course." He grabbed a blanket and lay down on the floor of the kitchen, unsure why he would even think of doing so when he had a perfectly good bed outside in his truck. He told himself it was to watch Carol, make sure she didn't do anything stupid like use a gun, or wander off.

He couldn't search for her too, only to have her dead before he found her.


	2. Funeral

**Chapter 2: Funeral**

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I'm headed to my dad's house, no internet till the 1st, so I'll try and update then! Also, I use a couple of words I'm not exactly comfortable with, but it's Merle's 'voice' and so I thought they were appropriate. Basically, wanted to note that I normally would never use/say/write those words. Thanks all, Happy New Year!

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><p>He woke up to her scream, and before he could comprehend what was happening he was standing with his knife out. There were no walkers around, and Daryl was left to spin to Carol in confusion. She was sitting on the bed, her hand clamped around her mouth, looking for all the world like she was prepared to take a beating for waking him.<p>

"You okay?" He muttered, sliding his knife away and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

The blood had drained from her face, and slowly she lowered her hand, letting out the harsh breaths she had contained. "Sorry I woke you."

He shrugged, "Time to get up."

Carol stared at him then, for an eternal moment. Daryl wanted to tell her to stop, but she was just watching him with amazement, and slowly she raised her knees up and set her face on them. She started to cry, softer than she had last night. He scowled, unsure what to do. He hadn't been mad when she woke him, even though she had expected him to be, and yet he still made her cry.

He shuffled to her side and sat across from her, trying to formulate a phrase that would make it all better. Lori could have said something like that, something to fix whatever she had done. Or Rick, or even Glenn.

"Don't cry, I'm, uh, I'm sorry." He murmured, the apology sticking in his throat, as if it didn't want to come out. He could count the number of times he had apologized in his life on one hand, and he had never expected to say sorry to Carol.

If anything, his apology just made her cry harder, and Daryl just sat there feeling a fool. He didn't know why he was in the RV, didn't know why he was suddenly the one delegated to looking after her. Damn, it should have been another woman in here, someone who could help her, or at least understand what she was feeling. Daryl had been in charge one day, and he'd already made her cry.

He stood, "I'll, uh, just leave."

"Wait!" Her voice was panicked, and full of tears, and when she looked up her eyes were puffy. Her cheeks were swollen, and there were dark bags under her eyes. She looked terrible. "I'm sorry. I'll stop, it's just... you're being so nice."

Daryl couldn't have been more surprised if she had decked him. He had been called a lot of things in his life, and nice had never been one of them. Merle woulda shit himself laughing if he had heard Carol say that. "You're a piece of shit, and always will be. The only thing you're better than is niggers and faggots."

Daryl wished, in that second, that he had been the one with the guts to handcuff Merle to a roof and leave him there to rot. He had been an asshole, and if Carol wanted to call Daryl nice, Merle could shut it.

Carol scrubbed at her eyes, as if that would help her regain some semblance of composure. "I'm sorry. I'm making you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to wake you, and it wasn't your fault I was crying. You're the only damn person in this whole camp I don't seem to be furious with."

"You're mad at everyone?" Daryl latched onto that statement, relating to it. He could talk anger, he could comfort her with this.

Carol sighed, "Yeah. I shouldn't be, but I am. I'm mad at Rick, for leaving her. I'm mad at Lori for not letting me go help her. She doesn't understand, she's never lost a child. How come Carl gets better, and Sophia gets killed!" Carol's voice was rising in intensity.

"It's not fair." Daryl added after Carol took a breath.

"No, it's not. And I don't wish anything bad on Lori, or Rick, or Carl. But where was everyone when I needed them? When Sophia needed them? Shane decides to shoot some walkers? And Glenn's having sex, and Andrea with her stupid new gun obsession. Why didn't anyone care about my baby?" Her last sentence was a wail, and only with a huge gulp of air did she hold back tears. Daryl hadn't followed half of what she was saying, with Glenn having sex and all... he could barely picture the kid legal, let alone getting some.

Carol's hand snuck out and snatched his wrist, gripping it for a moment. Daryl held himself still, letting her touch him. "Except for you," she whispered, "you cared. I'm not mad at you."

"You should be." Daryl drawled, "I wasn't there, at the roadblock. I didn't look hard enough. I was so close."

Carol slid off the bed, kneeling in between Daryl's legs, and surrounding him with her presence. He was uncomfortable, pulling himself away from her as much as possible in such a confined space.

"Daryl Dixon, you listen to me." She laid a hand on his cheek, infinitely tender, even as he flinched away from her. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I could never be mad at you. You're the only thing left I have to care about."

She pulled away then and headed to the door, as if knowing that he would need time to still his too-fast heartbeat. He wasn't sure what he had thought, in the moments before she had touched his cheek. Would she strike him? Would she kiss him? He didn't know which one frightened him more.

"Let's get food. They're going to bury her today." She repeated this statement to him, as if drawing strength from it. Daryl thought in that moment that she was probably the strongest woman in the camp, even if she didn't fight or shoot a gun like Andrea. The only one that could have been abused every day of her life and still have the compassion she did. The only one who could watch her daughter get shot down and walk out the door the next morning to face her funeral alone.

Daryl hated Ed even more, hated him for hurting her, and for making her believe she was worthless, and in making her face the death of her daughter alone.

Not alone, he reminded himself as he stood. Sure, he wasn't much of a companion, but he would never let her face Sophia's funeral alone. He couldn't bear to be alone for it either, and she wasn't even his kid.

The camp was somber, and Daryl saw that Shane and Rick had been digging graves. Rick had obviously decided to bury Herschel's dead, probably in hopes that he would let them stay. He wasn't going to let them stay, Daryl could have told Rick that. The way he had collapsed when Shane shot the walker he was holding, he had been destroyed. Daryl was amazed he hadn't kicked them off yet. He was probably in shock, too broken to will himself to his feet.

Maggie was the only one who still came to the camp, and even then she didn't speak with anyone except for Glenn and Dale.

"Hey Carol, there's some food on the table for you." Lori called. She was sickly pale, and Daryl wondered if she was feeling okay with the baby, or if perhaps the stress of being kicked off Herschel's farm was eating away at her health.

"No thank you, Lori." Carol replied. Daryl followed her silently as she passed through the camp, heading to where Shane and Rick held shovels. They rubbed their hands on their pants, as if they were nervous.

Rick was the first to speak, "We're gonna put her over there, Carol. Lori and Andrew got some flowers and stuff."

"When are we burying her?" Carol's voice was strong, but no one missed the desperation behind her tired eyes.

Rick shrugged, "Whenever you're ready."

Carol turned to him briefly, and sighed. "I'll never be ready, Rick. But I'd like to get this over with. I don't want her sitting out."

Shane headed towards the camp again, probably to spread the word that they were burying Sophia right away. Rick twisted his hands, clearing his throat. Daryl almost felt bad for him, looking as distraught and nervous as he did.

"Carol," he started shakily, "I'm so sorry about what happened. I'm sorry that I was the one who... uhh, had to end it. I'm sorry we didn't look harder."

Carol eyed him, and Daryl wondered if she would let loose on him, the way he would. Daryl wanted to scream and knock him out.

"It's not your fault, Rick." She said gently, "We all tried."

Daryl turned to march away, afraid he wouldn't be able to bite his tongue any longer if he kept staring at Rick. Wasn't his fault? Goddamn, Carol was too kind for her own good. It might not have been Rick's fault Sophia got bit, but it damn well was his fault that he couldn't control Shane, or search for longer, or bloody well organize everyone.

A hand rested on his shoulder and Daryl spun around, fists clenched. Carol instinctively raised her hands, as if to cover her face. Her motion stopped Daryl dead, and he let his fists fall to his sides.

"Thought you were someone else." He muttered. There was no way he'd apologize twice in one day, and she had snuck up on him. She was damn lucky he didn't knock her out and explain later.

She nodded, "Sorry. Where are you going? We're about to bury her, I thought... I thought you were going to be there?"

He scowled, "I said I'd be there! I just didn't wanna watch you forgive Rick."

"Daryl," She sighed, "I know that I'm angry, and I told you so. But do you think that if I screamed at Rick it would make this any better? It won't bring her... it won't bring Sophia back. She's dead." Her voice was cold, and Daryl stared at her, wondering how she managed to even say the words.

"Might make ya feel better." He murmured.

Carol's eyes teared up, "It probably would. But only for a little while. I don't want to hurt him, I want us all to be safe from now on. I want to help."

"You are a stupid woman." Daryl said softly, "But I suppose you're right."

Her hand came up, pale and dirty. "Come with me to bury her?"

Daryl stared at her hand, "I, uh, yeah." He pulled her along briefly, dropping her hand as soon as she started to follow; as if it was something that could burn him.

Everyone was standing there, and no one could mistake the small figure wrapped in a dirty white sheet. Andrea and Lori held all sorts of wild flowers, and Dale handed him the doll he had found when he had almost died looking for her.

Carol stood beside him, and Rick and Shane lowered the body as gently as they could into the hole.

"Anyone like to say a few words?" Dale asked. "Carol?"

She frowned, "No, no thank you. Someone else." Her voice was shaky, breathy. Daryl was shocked her eyes were dry; she looked like someone on the verge of a complete breakdown.

Carl stepped between his parents. "Carol, I'd like to say something." His voice was just as shaky, but Carol nodded and tried to smile at him; it was more of a grimace, but she tried.

The boy wrung his hands, the same way Rick had done only a bit earlier. "Sophia was my best friend. She was great. I miss her, everyday. She loved everyone here. I know she's gonna take care of us. Sophia's gonna watch over us now, cause she's in heaven." Carl's voice cracked, and suddenly he was just a child again, and Lori brought him back into her arms. He started to cry, as quietly as he could. Lori kneeled down and cried with him.

Rick handed Shane a shovel and they looked to Carol. She nodded, and tears suddenly spilled down her cheeks.

"Wait." Daryl said quickly. He snatched the doll out of his belt loop, where he had instinctively tucked it. He set it into the grave, on the sheet. "It's hers."

He melted back into the crowd, uncomfortable with the growing lump in his throat. He felt like a damn woman, about to cry over some girl who he barely knew.

Carol touched his arm, just briefly. A whisper of a pat. "Thank you." She said, and Daryl thought he might just be doomed to forever care what this woman thought of him.

He swallowed heavily. "Yer welcome."


	3. Squirrels

**Chapter 3: Squirrels**

A/N: Love those reviews! Hope everyone's Holiday break was awesome, I saw my dad and it was great. We gamed as per usual! Anyway, enjoy the (extra long) chapter!

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><p>He'd barely been in camp for the last three days. Since Sophia's funeral, Daryl had woken up with the sun and gone off hunting till dusk. Carol didn't like it, but she didn't say anything about it; in fact, since the funeral, Carol hadn't said much of anything at all. Daryl hated it, hated sitting in silence with her and knowing that she just didn't care about anything anymore. He wasn't stupid, despite what the camp thought. Carol had lost everything now, and Daryl knew that it wouldn't be long before she joined Sophia.<p>

He couldn't lose her too, but he knew he wasn't enough to save her. So he was distancing himself, debating whether or not he could leave the camp. Leave everyone in the dust and head out on his bike and survive alone. He didn't want to stay for Carol's funeral, he wanted to be long gone, pretending that she was still out there, still sending soft smiles at her friends, and ruffling Carl's hair.

The thud of a squirrel against a tree brought him back to reality. It was his sixth today, and he was only half done the day. He'd need to go back to camp to unload anyway. He yanked the arrow out of the squirrel's body, reloading his cross bow. The squirrel joined the others hanging from his belt, by a piece of familiar twine, and Daryl nearly smiled at the memory of his damned necklace of walker ears. Rick had been so disgusted, and Daryl wanted to knock out his damn teeth for it. He had no idea what Daryl had done to get back to them.

If he hadn't come across that doll? Damn, he woulda just kept walking for days, tracking Sophia and- he cut the thought off right then and there. That wasn't the way it happened, and Sophia was dead, and there was no good thinking on it.

A patch of white flowers stopped him in his tracks, and Daryl seethed down at the Cherokee Roses. He wanted to stomp all over them, rip them out of the ground, burn the whole patch of land up; he didn't touch them, just walked around and kept storming back towards the farm.

"It's a fucking flower, you pussy." He muttered, words Merle would have said to him coming out of his own mouth. Goddamn, he wished his brother were here now, Merle had a bad temper. He wouldn't have held himself back and Shane would have a black eye and no teeth if Merle were here. Carol probably would have had her daughter back too; Merle wasn't the type to go looking for her, but he was the best tracker Daryl had ever seen. He probably would have found her the first day, dragged her back, dumped her in front of her mom, and gone to get high.

Although, Daryl wasn't giving him total credit. Merle might have been an asshole, but he wouldn't leave a kid out to die. He had even gotten angry at their good-for-nothing father when he found out Daryl had been lost in the woods. Merle had been in juvie, so he couldn't look for Daryl himself, but when he had gotten home his dad had gotten a beating to rival the ones he gave his sons. Last time the sonofabitch had touched Merle in anger. Merle was bigger than their dad, and he never let him forget it.

"Fuck." Daryl hissed in anger, seething at the memory. How in the hell had he managed to survive, and poor Sophia -who had an entire camp searching for her, who had a mother who loved her- died?

He reached the farmland and started marching towards the camp, watching the top of the RV for blond hair. There was no way in hell Andrea was going to shoot him again, or he'd stick an arrow in her ass. He saw the telltale hat in the distance, Glenn sitting up on top.

Daryl tossed the squirrels on the table, making Lori jump. "I'll clean 'em, just let me wash."

Lori nodded, "Thanks." She looked like she was peeling some kind of vegetable. Daryl's stomach growled. Lori didn't say anything at the noise, and for a second Daryl wished Carol was sitting at the table instead of Lori. She would have insisted he ate, and tried to take care of him.

The thought made him feel guilty, and he went off in search of her to check on her. Usually she was in the RV or sitting beside Sophia's grave, where Daryl spent anytime he wasn't hunting as well. This time, she was nowhere to be found.

Daryl rushed back to the RV, heart pounding faster than it would have been if he'd been fighting off walkers. He left her alone for half a day, and they fucking lost her? Daryl was going to strangle someone for this.

"Glenn!" He barked, watching the asian man leap to his feet in a panic.

"Yes, Daryl?" He responded, fear flickering in his eyes. Daryl didn't mean to frighten him, but apparently being related to Merle, who lived for the fear of others, was enough to make Glenn scared.

"Where the fuck's Carol?" He snarled.

Glenn cocked his head. "Didn't anyone tell you? She tends the horses now, around the afternoon. Has been for a few days."

Daryl stormed away without answering, embarrassed at how panicked he had become. He marched straight to the stables, and before he got to the door, ready to throw it open and start yelling, he heard singing. It was Carol, and it was very quiet, but she was singing to the horses.

She had a good voice, and the song was so sad and broken, Daryl swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. He was a Dixon, goddammit, and they didn't cry. His anger dissipated, and he knocked gently on the stable door. Her singing cut off instantly, and he regretted he'd knocked. He should have sat here and just listened to her for as long as he could.

"Carol?" He called at the door. She appeared from a stall, taking off thick gloves. A horse nickered at her and nudged her forward with her big nose.

"Hey, Daryl." She said softly, "How was hunting?"

He shrugged, "Got lots of squirrels. Din't know you were takin' care of the horses."

She nodded, and patted the horse behind her. "Yeah, I like horses. You can talk and talk, and they always listen. Good friends."

He walked towards her, cautious of his steps. "You don't have to take care of them, if you don't want to though. I mean, you could just visit."

She turned to him, and he saw that her eyes were a little red. "I like to take care of them. I like taking care of people. And speaking of, you must be starving."

Daryl almost smiled at her words, catching himself before he did. He had known that she would say that. She was a nurturer, through and through, and Daryl had never once in his life been taken care of.

"Carol, what did you, er, do? Before all this?" He asked, unsure where his sudden curiousity had come from.

She frowned, "You mean, before I was Ed's wife? Cause that's all I ever was, with Ed. I wasn't allowed to be nothing else. But before I met Ed? I was a teacher."

He scowled, "He made ya quit? Did you like it?"

"I loved it!" She said, and she sounded so happy in that moment. "And yeah, Ed made me quit. I should have seen it then, that he was a miserable bastard. But I didn't, and like all stupid, stupid girls in love, I thought he was the one for me. Then I married him."

"Bet you regret that now." Daryl muttered.

"No." Carol said, surprising them both.

Daryl frowned, "You just said he was awful."

Carol smiled, "He was, but he gave me Sophia. I don't regret that, I don't regret her, not ever. Not even now, when I wish I was the one who was dead instead of her."

Daryl stopped walking and stared at Carol, who turned back to him. "Carol, back in that church, you know, the one where you prayed?"

"Yes." She whispered.

Daryl shrugged, "Well, you said you wanted a chance to raise her right. Get to have everythin she was missin."

Carol's eyes filled with tears, and she nodded imperceptibly.

"Well, I mean, this might just be me talkin, but you were the best damn ma any girl coulda ask for. Why would you ever think you hadn't done right be her?" Daryl coughed, wondering if he had said too much.

Carol stepped forward and laid her hand on Daryl's arm. She looked to be on the verge of tears. "Thank you, Daryl. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Daryl scoffed, "It's true."

"That makes it even nicer to hear." Carol told him gently. "Like when people tell you you're the best hunter of the group. We all know it's true, but it's nice to hear it, all the same."

"No one's ever told me that." Daryl scowled, "Ain't nobody here who thinks very much of me."

Carol shook her head, "That's not true, Daryl. You pay attention, and you see how much they rely on you. And if you don't see that, then you see me, and I think you are the best man in this whole camp."

"Since I looked for her." Daryl muttered.

Carol squeezed his arm, making him look at her. "Since the day you handed me the axe and watched me smash Ed's face in. You didn't say a word, and you never once judged me for it. In fact, you looked like you wished I would hit him a few more times for good measure."

Daryl looked down, unsure what to say. He hadn't known that, known that Carol had thought he was a good man since that moment. "I, uhh, I kicked him a few times after you left."

Carol's hand left his arm, and she smiled at him. "Let's go get you some food."

He followed her, mostly because he didn't know what other option he might have. She didn't talk, just led him to the table Lori was at, where all the squirrels were. She went hunting around the boxes around the table and came back with a granola bar and an apple. She handed him the food, then went and grabbed a knife, ready to start cleaning squirrels.

"It's okay, Carol. I'll do that." Daryl told her through food.

She shook her head, "No, it's okay. Keeps my mind busy." She moved to a chair a bit away from the table, trying to keep all the gore away from the camp. He watched her for a while, seeing how easily she skinned them. He had taught her, a long time ago. When Merle was still here, before Rick appeared. She was good at it.

"You're watching her." Lori's voice was quiet, and when he glanced to her she was staring down at her vegetables.

He shrugged, "You're watchin' me."

She rolled her eyes as she looked at him, "Why the hell do you think? I'm waiting for the moment when you're next going to fly off the handle."

Daryl glared, and in the softest voice he could muster he said, "Lori, you ain't never see me fly off the handle. You think I was upset with what happen'd to Merle? That was nothin. You think I got a temper problem? Maybe you should look a little closer to home, with your crazy-ass fuck buddy."

She paled, and that only made the dark smudges under her eyes stand out. He felt bad for being so mean when he knew she was pregnant, but he didn't want her thinking he was the unstable one in camp. Everyone knew that was Shane.

"How did you know?" She whispered.

Daryl shrugged, "Saw you two one night. Ain't my business."

Lori glared at him, "Why the hell didn't you tell Rick? That seems like something you'd do."

Daryl scowled, "Didn't I just finish sayin you don't know fuck all about me? Plus, anyone could see Rick ain't stupid, he knew. And he obviously didn't care."

"How did he know? That's the one thing I can't figure out. As soon as I found out he was alive, it was over, so how the hell did he find out?"

Daryl didn't ever expect to be sitting here talking to Lori and explaining things to her. He sighed, "It's human instinct. You turned to him cause he was all you got. Rick's not stupid, and he knows that. It's what people do; you lose somethin' and you latch on to what you got left."

Lori sighed, sounding almost sad. "So why are you watching Carol?"

"Weren't you listenin'? She lost everythin', and she got nothin' to latch on to. What d'ya think happens to those people?"

Lori whipped her head again to stare at him. "You aren't suggesting that she'd-?"

Daryl didn't say anything, just got up and took his apple core over to where Carol was sitting. Lori was still sitting at the table, staring off into space.

"What was that about, I didn't think you got along with Lori?" Carol asked softly, finishing up the last squirrel.

"We don't." Daryl said shortly. "Come, let's go wash up." They weren't headed to Herscel's house, he didn't exactly want to see any of them. They marched over to where there was a hose and pump, and Daryl pumped it while Carol cleaned her hands and face, and even dunked her short hair under. Daryl followed suit as Carol pumped, feeling refreshed.

"I'd do just about anything for a hot shower right now." Carol said, wiping at her eyes. Her dress was dirty from hay and dirt, and Daryl decided he would throw it in with the few things he needed washing and try and do them up tonight. She would like that.

That's when Glenn's voice rang out, "Walkers! Get to the house! It's a herd!"


	4. Worry

**Chapter 4: Worry**

A/N: Here is a super extra long chapter (and it's even got some fluff!) just for you because I got some wonderful reviews! I'm not exactly sure when I'll end this story, but I'd say it will be around ten chapters? So I'm halfway there now! Review and enjoy!

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><p>Daryl snatched Carol's hand up and started pulling her towards the house, glancing over his shoulder to see the walkers flowing onto the farm field.<p>

A shot rang out, and Daryl snapped his vision over to Shane, who had sniped one out. It was an impressive shot, but Daryl wanted to murder him. The walkers had smelled the living, they hadn't known they were there! Shane had just sent out a beacon to the herd.

"Shane! Dammit!" Rick tackled Shane, wrestling the gun off him. Another shot went off into the air.

Daryl looked at the herd on the edges of the property once more. They had started to run towards them. Carol's grip on his hand tightened to the point where he couldn't feel his fingers, but he didn't let go. Daryl wanted her close, he didn't know what she'd do if walkers came near her.

They reached the house, where Lori was slamming her fist against the door, waiting for someone to unlock it. Maggie's face appeared quickly, frightened.

"Walkers, walkers are coming!" Lori cried, "We need in the house."

Maggie swung the door open. "Where's Glenn? Where is Glenn!" Her voice reached almost a scream, and Daryl suddenly realized that she cared more for the asian than she would like to admit. Her skin was white as snow, and Daryl scanned the area, seeing Glenn back at the camp, walkers getting too close for comfort. Glenn was grabbing things, moving hastily and glancing from the house to the walkers every chance he got.

"Dammit," Daryl snarled, "Watch her." He thrust Carol towards Maggie, and took off running towards the camp. He had his knife out and ready to use. He heard Carol yell after him, but he didn't look back.

He reached Glenn just before the walkers. "Move your ass!" He yelled, grabbing the man by the arm. Glenn pushed a bag into his hands, surprising Daryl. He snatched another off the ground.

"Run!" Glenn started running, Daryl following hastily. He could hear the walkers moaning, barely footsteps behind them.

"Maggie! Open the door! Open the door and get ready to shut it!" Glenn was screaming, staring at the farmhouse door. It swung wide, Maggie standing with a baseball bat, tears streaking down her face. They roared into the farmhouse and Maggie slammed the door in the face of walkers, bolting it tight.

Herschel was nowhere to be seen, and Maggie collapsed against the door in sobs. Daryl turned angrily to Glenn, who was sprawled out where he had tumbled upon entrance. He scrambled to his feet, looking towards Daryl's scowl and Maggie's form. It was clear he wanted to go to her, pull her away from the door.

"What the hell was so damn important you nearly got yourself killed?" Daryl asked furiously.

"Food." Glenn answered, "We needed all the food, cause these walkers aren't gonna leave. We won't be able to get to the fields."

Daryl looked down at his bag, where all the squirrel he had caught was sitting. There was also some vegetables, and a few apples. The damn asian was right, these walkers weren't going to give up until they found some better prey. Glenn pushed past him, knowing he was satisfied with his reason, and kneeled beside Maggie. She immediately threw herself into his arms, and he had the most curious mixture of emotions on his face: happiness, shock, fear, embarrassment, sadness.

Daryl spun on his heel, letting the bag of food drop on the floor. Carol was nowhere in sight. "Fuck! Where the hell is she?" He growled, turning to Maggie. She looked up at him, her eyes red.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She whispered, "I tried to stop her, I did. She was afraid for the horses."

Daryl wanted to shoot her, and she saw the murderous intentions in his eyes. "How'd she get out?"

"The back door. It's shut and locked now." Maggie told him.

He marched up to her and squatted down beside the couple, Glenn shielding Maggie from Daryl's wrath. Daryl was seething.

"If she's hurt, or bit, or dead," Daryl snarled, "you'd best pray the walkers get me." He stood up, grabbing a gun from the table where Rick and Shane stood. He stared at them hard.

"You aren't gonna object to me havin a gun?" Daryl said, his voice deadly.

Shane rolled his eyes, "Fuck you, Daryl."

Daryl pulled the safety and aimed the muzzle straight at Shane. Everyone went still. "Hmm, might not jam. What d'ya think, Shane? Should we test it?"

Shane stared at him, sweat beading on his forehead. "You're an evil sonofabitch."

Daryl shrugged, "Yeah, I'm real heartless, goin out there to try and save a woman you all let walk off. She lost her daughter, and you all think, damn, why not let her go off unarmed into the walker herd! Bunch of fucking retards."

"Daryl, the chances of her being alive right now are... not very good." Rick said softly, trailing off. Daryl eyed him, but didn't say a word. He was running out of time. He walked away, leaving everyone staring after him. The back door was locked up, and Daryl didn't see any walkers around that side of the house just yet. He could get out, but he'd probably have trouble getting back in.

Why the hell had Herschel built his stables so far away? Daryl marched his way upstairs, reaching a bedroom that had a big window over a section of the roof. He unlocked it and opened it all the way. Always good to have a second entrance ready, just in case the back door was surrounded.

He returned downstairs and unlocked the door, the click of the bolt deafening in the quiet room.

"What are you doing?" Carl's young voice asked him. Daryl saw him standing in the doorway, staring at the gun in Daryl's hand.

"I'm goin' to get Carol." Daryl muttered, "Carl, could you lock this as soon as I leave?"

He nodded and came closer. "Daryl, you're gonna bring her back safe, right?"

Daryl stared down at the boy, recalling the kind words he had said at the funeral. The boy was old before his time, old and wise and so, so sad. Daryl brought his hand up and ruffled his hair, the way he had seen Carol do a million times.

"I'm gonna do my best." He told him sincerely. "Now remember, lock this door up."

Carl smiled at him shakily, tears blooming in his eyes. "Good luck."

Daryl slipped out the door, onto the porch. He uncocked his gun and put it into the back of his pants, pulling his crossbow into his hands. The gun was good for many targets, but the crossbow was silent, and Daryl was better with it. He scanned the area, seeing no walkers yet, but hearing the porch creaking. They would find their way around the house quickly enough, and Daryl had no time.

He took off swiftly towards the horse barn, keeping as low as he could. He glanced back a few times, and so far he hadn't gotten any attention. He reached the barn and pushed on the door. It was blocked.

"Carol." He called, soft as he could. He was pressed against the door, trying not to make any movements. The walkers were on the porch. "Carol, open the door."

Daryl didn't move, resting against the door. Nothing happened, and he needed the door to open, or he was trapped outside with no cover. Abruptly, he heard a creak, and the doors flew open, letting him stumble inside. It was surprisingly dark in the stable, and as soon as the door was shut again it got even darker.

Carol turned to him, staring at him as though he was a ghost. "Why are you here, Daryl? Why? You're going to get yourself killed!"

Daryl snatched her arm, checking her for bites. "I'm savin' your sorry ass." He muttered as he worked.

She pulled her arm away, "I haven't been bitten." Her voice was bitter, and Daryl knew he had touched a nerve,

"Naw, you ain't bit, but you're lookin' for a way out all the same." She wanted to do bitter? Daryl could do that.

Carol's mouth dropped, "What exactly are you implying, Daryl Dixon?"

"You're tryin' to get yourself killed!" He hissed at her, accusing and a bit hurt at her actions.

Carol's eyes softened, despite his anger, and she marched forward and hugged him. Daryl froze, unsure what to do with the woman now within his grasp. She was crying again, he realized, and her arms were locked around his torso.

"Oh, Daryl. You big idiot." Her voice was soft, "I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was trying to save the horses. I don't want to die."

He glanced around, seeing all the empty stalls. She must have let them go. "You don't?" He murmured.

She shook her head, nestled in his neck. "No, I mean, sometimes, when I think of her, I wish it had been me. But I'm not ready to die yet. Somebody has to take care of you."

Daryl put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her away. "You think this is takin' care of me? I almost had a heart attack. Nearly killed Maggie, and even aimed a gun at Shane. He asked for it though." Daryl added the last sentence as an afterthought, still angry at the cop.

Carol frowned, "I'm sorry for making you worry. I didn't think you'd come after me. The stable is sturdy anyway, I was just going to wait it out here. I brought a couple of cans of food from Herschel's cupboard."

Daryl stared at her. It had never occurred to him that she had had a plan coming in here. He had only thought of the worse possible scenario.

He shook his head, "Only you would care enough to save the damn horses." Fool woman, risking her life for a couple of animals. Would she sacrifice so easily for anyone? "I thought you were dead, and you're off bein' animal rescue. God damn."

Carol huffed out a breath, "I'm not dead, and I'm not planning to die, Daryl." Her voice was soft, "You don't have to worry about me."

"But I do!" He snarled, glaring at her. "It's all I do, worry and wish I had been good enough to save Sophia. I'm like a damn woman, worrying and hovering over you. Fuck!"

He set his crossbow on the ground, pacing back and forth. He hadn't meant to say anything about it, but his temper had gotten the best of him, as usual. Carol interrupted his pacing, watching him with midnight eyes that saw way too much. She set her hand on his chest, over his racing heart.

"Daryl, Sophia's death was _not_ your fault." She said, her voice more determined than it had been in weeks. "I do not blame you for anything. And while I admit I'm glad you worry about me, you don't need to."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "Why in the hell would me worryin' 'bout you make you happy?"

She gave him a half smile. "Cause I worry about you all the time, seems fair you do the same for me."

"Worry about me?" He scoffed, "I can take care of myself."

"Don't I know it. You may be the toughest, angriest, stubbornest, most wonderful man on the planet." She murmured, her words almost too soft to hear. She had intended it that way, Daryl realized. She didn't mean for him to hear her, probably because she knew her words would make him angry. He hated any type of compliment, and even though her words pleased him, he'd rather not think about them too much.

"What are you mutterin' 'bout?" He scowled, pretending he hadn't heard her.

She shrugged, "Nothing. Come on, they're gonna start surrounding the stables soon, we should go up the loft a bit. There's only some riding equipment up there and a few bags of oats."

Daryl shrugged and picked up his crossbow, letting her lead the way up the ladder. He watched her climb onto the platform, letting his eyes linger a little too long on her form. He shook himself, willing himself to forget the fact that he had just stared at Carol's ass.

The platform of the loft was dusty and had equipment scattered around. It smelled strongly of saddle polish, which Daryl figured would work in their favor if the walkers came to the stable. As long as they stayed quiet, they might get left alone.

"Walkers probably won't smell us. We keep quiet we'll be okay." He told Carol, laying his crossbow and gun near the wall. He always kept his knife on him, but he didn't exactly want to rest with a gun stabbing into his back.

Carol was pulling the bags of oats around, and grabbing a few old horse blankets. "Makeshift bed. Might as well rest up." She pulled a few cans of food from a little bag she must have set up here.

"You go 'head, I'll watch." Daryl muttered.

Carol leaned over and pulled on the toe of his boot. "We'll hear them if they get in, just come lay down."

She left him alone, laying down and pulling a blanket over herself. Daryl wondered how she always managed to say and do things that infuriated him, and yet she did them in a way that gave him enough space to calm down. She was always pushing, but she gave him room to think, and usually her soft voice made him hesitant to yell at her. She never raised her voice, and Daryl felt like a tyrant whenever he yelled at her. Like Ed.

He grimaced in the darkness of the barn, despising himself for that thought. Daryl hated Ed, had done so since the day when Shane had punched his lights out in the old camp. He didn't like men that hurt women, which was surprising, since he was Merle's brother, and Merle had landed himself in prison on more than one occasion for battery.

Daryl was like Ed in more ways than he could count, and every similarity he found made him angrier at himself.

"Daryl." Carol's sleepy voice startled him.

"What?" He snapped.

She sighed, "You're not exactly keeping watch if you're glaring holes in the stable walls."

He tugged off his boots, laying himself down on the blankets, as far from Carol as he could get. He could still feel her body heat.

"You wanna talk about it?" She asked, facing away from him.

"No." He said shortly, "When we wake you gotta eat something, you're too skinny."

She laughed softly, the first time he had heard her do so in what seemed like forever. Maybe the first time he had ever heard her laugh. It was a beautiful laugh, and too short lived. Daryl wondered if he'd ever hear her laugh so hard she cried, or do the silent laugh where she gasped for air. He wondered if she'd ever had those experiences.

"Now that's something I've never heard before," she mused, "don't think I've ever been called skinny before. Takes the end of the damn world before I'm the perfect size."

Daryl grimaced, "Did Ed tell you that? That you weren't perfect?"

Carol went still, and her voice was sad. "Of course."

"Well, he was a dumbass." Daryl said brusquely. "And he was wrong. Now go to sleep."

He rolled away from her, his heart thumping madly against his ribcage. Jesus, did he just tell her she was perfect, in an inadvertent, ass backwards sort of way? Daryl swallowed hard, wishing he could take all his words back. It wasn't that he didn't think Carol was perfect -he did!- he just didn't exactly want her to know he thought that. But she was perfect: she was beautiful, smart, and kind.

Her hand touched his back, and he nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise. He hadn't even heard her move, and now her hand brushed across his back gently. Daryl was surprised he missed her touch as soon as she removed it. Generally, he didn't like anyone near his back.

"Can I ask you a question?" She whispered, her voice sounding almost frightened.

"Yep." He answered.

"It's going to make you mad." she sighed, "Your brother, Merle. You are so... different from him. He was like... well, like Ed. And you aren't." Her voice was hesitant, and Daryl knew it was because everyone who brought up Merle usually got their faces smashed in, or at least a stinging insult thrown at them.

Daryl didn't speak for a long moment, "Merle and Ed probably woulda gotten along too well. Merle was... troubled."

"No," Carol said, "sometimes I think you're troubled, when we talk about our families, or what we miss from our old lives. Merle was more than troubled."

Daryl scowled, "Yeah, he was an asshole, you happy now?"

It was silent in the stables, for an eternal moment, and Daryl felt bad he had gotten so short with her. Her hand returned to his back though, brushing gently.

"No," she finally murmured, "it doesn't make me happy that he was an asshole. It doesn't make me happy that you lost him. Despite the fact that he probably hurt you, you miss him, more than you should."

"You don't know what you're talkin' 'bout." Daryl drawled softly, amazed at how easily she had seen through him.

"Yes, I do. I know exactly what I'm talking about." She told him, and Daryl recalled how easily they had compared Ed and Merle. "But sometimes you have to do what you want, not what they want. And sometimes you have to move on and figure out yourself."

Daryl scoffed, tempted to turn to face her, but he didn't want her to stop rubbing his back. "Yeah, how's all your yuppy soul searchin' goin' so far?"

He heard her move this time, and he tensed all over when her hand slid over his side and came to rest on his stomach. She pressed her front to his back and held him to her, face resting on his shoulder blades.

"It's good, Daryl." She muttered, "It's going really good."


	5. Fear

**Chapter 5: Fear**

A/N: Thank you for your reviews! Here's some Caryl angst and fluff for you all! Get ready, next chapter they make their daring escape from the stables, and they see what has become of their group! Enjoy and review :)

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><p>He woke up surrounding her, his face buried in her close cropped hair. Sometime during their sleep they must have switched positions, and now Daryl held Carol within his arms, her face resting on his chest. He couldn't believe the rapid pounding of his heart hadn't woken her, and it only slowed after a few long minutes. Carol was breathing deep and evenly, and Daryl realized she was still asleep, and probably resting more peacefully than she had in weeks.<p>

He studied her for a moment, the first time he had really allowed himself to do so. Her hair was soft against his chin, and she smelled surprisingly good, despite the fact that the arrival of the zombie apocalypse had brought on terrible hygiene worldwide. Her skin was pale, and she had dark shadows under her eyes; Daryl wondered if she had even been sleeping before this at all.

Detangling his arms from her form was more difficult than Daryl could ever have imagined, and not only because he didn't want to wake her, but also because he didn't really want to move away from her. Still, waking up next to Carol may have been nice one time, but he wasn't a good replacement option for her.

And damn him for it, but Daryl didn't want to be a replacement.

He leaned against the wall, wishing he could see more than a foot in front of his face in the darkness. It was probably the middle of the night, and Daryl bet everyone who was now cozy in the house thought they were both dead. He'd survived worse than this though, it would take more than darkness and a few walkers outside the stables to make him run scared.

Moans could be heard outside the stables, but not too often, telling Daryl the walkers hadn't found any food yet. The house must have held up, or else Herschel had barricaded them all safely somewhere in a room. Daryl was almost grateful he had run after Carol, he would have rather stabbed himself than stand in a room with Rick and Shane all night. It only would have added to the painful awkwardness if Herschel had been in there too.

Carol sat bolt upright suddenly, letting out a harsh breath. Daryl jumped towards her, afraid she would scream or do something to draw the walkers, but she just sank her head down to her knees. He reached the blanket, kneeling beside her, his heart pounding.

"You okay?" He asked gruffly, realizing she must have had another bad dream.

She rubbed her eyes and faced him, forcing an attempt at a smile. The darkness made it hard to see her face, but Daryl imagined she was staving off tears. He reached out and set his hand on her shoulder, feeling a little stupid as he tried to comfort her. Her opposite hand grabbed onto his and twined their fingers together.

She cleared her throat softly, "Thanks, I'm good."

"Bad dream?"

She nodded, "Not as bad as usual though. I actually got some sleep."

Daryl pulled his hand away and felt his way towards the cans of food she had brought with her. "Want some food?"

"Sure. There's only canned peaches and rice pudding though." She whispered, coming to sit beside him.

He shrugged, "Can't read the label, guess we find out." He pulled his knife and jabbed it into the can, pulling the tin apart so they could get at it. After pushing the sharp edges away he held the can out to Carol.

"I have a spoon." She said, holding it out to him.

"You go first." He gave the can to her and turned away, facing the door. He heard her take a few bites, and the imperceptible moan of pleasure when the taste hit her mouth. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with her closeness.

"Here. You're turn." Her voice was gentle. "Don't you dare say no, Daryl, you need to eat too. You are human."

He scowled at her, and took the can. "Not hungry."

"Eat." She commanded. He almost grinned at her, amazed at how domineering she sounded. She had never had the courage to speak that way to anyone a couple of weeks ago, and now she was trying to order _him_ around.

"Bossy woman." He scooped rice pudding into his mouth. They only ate half the can together, saving the rest. Daryl stacked the other can on top of it when he was done, attempting to keep it covered over and knowing that it still wouldn't keep for long in the southern heat. They'd have to eat it soon.

Carol was leaning against the wall beside him quietly, letting him digest in silence. It was his favorite thing about Carol, she never made him talk, or even made him listen. She was good about knowing when to be silent, when to let him have space and think.

The only problem with her silence was the boredom. It was a dark barn, and he couldn't escape, couldn't yell, couldn't hunt. Basically all of his favorite activities were banned at the moment, and all he had left to amuse himself was sleeping and talking to damn Carol.

"We only have three cans left." He said.

"Three more days after today." She whispered, "If they haven't cleared off a bit by then we're in trouble."

"I left the upstairs window open, in the house. If we could get to the porch we could go up on the roof."

"That's if they're not in the house yet."

Daryl shrugged, "Run for the woods?"

"We wouldn't survive."

Daryl scoffed, "You're forgettin' who you're with. We'd survive just fine."

"I can't fight, Daryl, you want to run away to the woods? You're running alone."

That stung, and Daryl smothered the bit of him that wanted to retaliate after those words. "You didn't need to fight. I woulda fed us." He muttered. "Besides, it was just an idea."

"It was a good idea, Daryl, I just don't think it's our best course of action." Carol's words were supposed to pacify him but they just annoyed him. This was a prime example of why he didn't normally like to converse for fun.

She fell silent when he didn't respond, and Daryl marvelled at the fact that she knew he was angry just by sitting near him. She was a good judge of moods, especially anger; Daryl wondered if she had gotten that way because it was easier to be silent with Ed than argue with him.

He grimaced at the thought, and turned to her, angry. "You know I'd never hit you, right?"

She froze, "Yes." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Then don't do that silent shit. I might get mad, but you can tell me what you're thinkin'." He muttered, annoyed he had even brought it up.

Hands fell onto his arm, gentle, but holding him in one place. One travelled up until it rested on his shoulder. He tensed and prepared to push Carol away, but he had just told her he would never hit her, so how could he raise his hands to her in any way? He sat still, frightened and nervous and angry and about ten other emotions. Goddamned woman had him out of sorts.

"Daryl, I'm thinking that you're stubborn. And that we need to wait it out in the stables as long as possible. The others might come get us!" She said, her voice sounding almost happy.

The barn doors creaked and slammed as they hit the board of wood locking them. Loud moans converged outside the door and before Daryl could think he had thrown himself over Carol on the loft floor. He pulled his crossbow and readied a bolt. Carol's eyes were wild with fear beneath him and he held his finger up to his lips, deadly serious.

A tear leaked out of her eye and she pressed a hand over her mouth. Daryl realized walkers scared the ever living hell outta this woman more than anything else in the whole world, and yet she had still gone out when a herd was passing through to save the damn horses. Tenderness burst through him at that thought, though he would never in a million years admit to it.

The moans quieted eventually, and Daryl gently set his crossbow down beside them. He held his finger up to his lips again, and then rolled himself off of Carol, trying to forget how soft and warm she had been under him. They lay beside each other for eternity, silent and frightened, willing their hearts to stop racing.

Eventually, Carol leaned over him, resting herself on his chest. "Are we safe?" The words were little more than mouthed, a breath of air leaving her at most.

He nodded, "They're gone. Maybe they were smellin' the rice puddin'?"

"Or heard me." She whispered.

His trembling hand reached up and cupped her cheek. He tried to ignore the fact that it was shaking, and not because he had been frightened by the walking dead trying to burst in on their sanctuary. This woman frightened the holy hell out of him.

"Not your fault." He muttered. Blue eyes stared at him, frightened but full of warmth. No one had ever really looked at Daryl that way before.

"Don't you blame yourself either, Daryl." She smiled, and this time it was a real smile, and Daryl thought that he must have done something right if the first person she smiled at since her daughter's death was him.

Then she leaned down and rested her hand on his cheek, her nose a hairsbreadth from his. She watched him, wondering what would happen if she continued her course of action. Daryl could barely breath, and his hand almost dropped from her cheek, but she snatched it up and pressed it back into her skin. He wasn't sure what he wanted, and he didn't know what to do, and Carol was pushing him so fast.

Her lips met his, and Daryl pushed his brain aside and snatched Carol as close as she could get. He rolled over her again, dominating their kiss. Her hands raced into his hair, and Daryl thought that perhaps this was exactly what it meant to be perfectly happy.

He pulled away for air and stared down at her, shocked and unsure with what to do next. Carol smiled at him, and the sight of her lips swollen from his kisses nearly made him start all over again. She was beautiful.

And totally, ridiculously, out of his league. Even now, where society was so broken he wasn't considered an uneducated hick, but a good hunter, he could never have her. He couldn't have Carol, he shouldn't have Carol. He destroyed everything.

And he didn't want her.

He pulled away from her, moving as far as he could in the tiny loft. What a terrible place to get stuck. Daryl could practically feel his skin itching, his brain running overdrive. All he needed was to go out hunting squirrels. Fuck, this woman was messing with his emotions.

Carol sat up, rustling the blankets. She didn't move towards him though, and for that Daryl was grateful. He had promised never to hurt her, but he didn't want to be cornered, he was way too volatile as it was.

"Daryl." Her voice was impossibly soft.

He didn't answer. Merle's voice was mocking him, sickeningly loud in his head: "Nobody is gonna care about you, cept me, little brother. And nobody ever will." Daryl wanted to throw things around, smash something, like the last time he was in the stables with Carol. When he called her a stupid bitch. Guilt flooded him when he thought of that, but he had said sorry, which was more than most people would get.

"So you're going to ignore me now?" Her voice was quiet. "Alright, well I'll be over here when you're ready to talk to me again."

He had made Carol mad. He could tell, just by the strain and annoyance in her voice. Yet, she had still stayed calm with him and left him alone. Daryl wished Merle was there so he could knock his teeth out. His words wouldn't stop echoing in his brain, and all Daryl could think was how he would feel if he kissed Carol like that again and then she left.

Or she died.

"Jesus." He cursed softly. What the fuck had he gotten himself into?


	6. Beginning

**Chapter 6: Beginning**

A/N: So, I lied. Next chapter they will get out of the stables, but this chapter is pure fluff. I both love this chapter and hate it, because it's adorable and long and all Caryl, but it's also probably the most out of character Daryl gets. Although, I like to think that we have never really seen the 'loving' side of him on TWD so I hope this at least is Daryl-y enough for you all! Review!

PS: The chapters are probably going to just get longer and longer, or else this story might end up being 15 chapters :) We shall see!

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><p>It took hours, but eventually Daryl calmed himself down enough to face Carol. He turned around, trying to think of something to say, something intelligent, something smart that could fix all this mess. Daryl's brain was in overdrive, and he cursed himself for his awkwardness with women. Or, at least, with women he gave a shit about. It had been a different story to get high with Merle and go out and find some one night stand. He hadn't cared about her feelings, or his scars, or whether she was sated or not after they were done.<p>

Hadn't had to see them the next day.

He sucked in a deep breath and faced Carol, his eyes adjusting to the dusky light that had arrived with the break of dawn. His breath left him as he saw she was sleeping soundly in their makeshift bed. The blankets were wrapped around her like a cocoon, the heat of the night and the blankets probably suffocating her. Still, he hadn't seen her sleep so well in a long time, and he was hesitant to wake her or move any of her blankets.

Daryl moved towards her as quietly as he could and sat down right next to her, watching her eyes flicker behind her eyelids as she dreamed. He wondered what she dreamt about. Sophia, or the world that had disappeared with the zombies, or even Ed. He wondered if she was happy when she was dreaming; he wasn't, he always dreamed about the worst possibility. The last time he had dreamt of something good had probably been as a child. Sleeping was probably his least favorite activity, although when he had been pressed up to Carol it hadn't seemed nearly as detestable.

He wanted her, he realized. He wanted her desperately. Daryl scrubbed at his eyes, wishing he was less of a uneducated, angry bastard, so he could deserve her. But, at the same time, he also wished that he was more like Merle, and perhaps he could just take her and not give a damn what anyone else thought.

Then again, if he was more like Merle he'd probably end up dead, or worse, he'd hurt Carol even more.

"Daryl." Her voice startled him, and he jumped, guilty at being found so close to her. He glanced down, but she was still asleep, her face set in almost a content expression.

"Jesus." Daryl whispered to himself, "She's dreamin'." Not only dreaming, but dreaming of him; and happily! There was no fear, as Glenn had every time he saw him. There was no hate, or anger, as Lori or Shane, or even Rick expressed towards him. Carol was happy, and she was saying his name.

He couldn't help himself, Daryl snatched at her shoulder and shook her gently. Carol awoke immediately, her eyes clouding with panic and fear at being awoken so abruptly.

"What's wrong!" She hissed.

Daryl shook his head, "Nothin', I just, umm... I was... I just wanted-"

"So, now you're talking to me?" Her voice was annoyed, and Daryl realized he had done exactly what he had been trying to avoid: he'd made a fool of himself.

"Never mind." He growled. "Go back to sleep." He glared at the opposite wall of the stable, furious with himself.

She sat up. "Daryl, you woke me up and scared me half to death, you obviously have something to say."

"Jus' forget it!" He snapped. Hurt crossed Carol's face for a moment, but it softened into a look that made Daryl uncomfortable. He couldn't exactly place it, but her eyes started to water, and if she started to cry he was going to throw himself off the loft to the ground.

"Was it about before? What you were going to say, I mean?" She sniffed, "It's fine if you don't want me, Daryl, but please-"

"I ain't never said that!" He interrupted, pausing as her eyes widened at his words. Slowly, and quieter than ever he repeated it: "I never said that."

She stared at him; a puzzle she couldn't quite figure out. "But you... I mean, Daryl, you obviously don't want-"

He snatched her wrist, fury written in his eyes. "Don't you tell me what I want. Don't go tellin' me how I feel about shit."

"Fine." She snapped, tugging on the wrist he wouldn't let go of. "But you better figure out what you want, since you're all over the place here. It's not nice to screw around with people. Daryl, let go of me!"

He released her wrist, "I know what I want. I wanna get you and me outta this damn place."

"That is _not_ what I meant, and you know it." She accused. "I want to know if you want _me_?" Suddenly, her words became a plea; Carol wasn't angry anymore, just sad. She was confused, and lost, and staring at Daryl like he could be some type of salvation. He couldn't refuse her.

"Carol," he murmured, "I won't do this."

Her blue eyes flared, "Why not? Why not! I want to know, Daryl Dixon. I have a right to know! Why won't you _love me_!"

He stumbled back, shocked at her words. Love had never even entered his mind, never even been a word in his dictionary. Goddammit, love? He liked Carol, sure. He wanted to protect Carol, he wanted her safe, and happy, and carefree. He wanted Sophia back, and he wanted to stow both of them away somewhere beautiful, because that's exactly the type of place they belonged.

But _love her_? Daryl didn't even understand the word. It made him feel stupid. Insignificant, and exactly like the dumb hick everyone expected him to be. Made him angry.

"Because I won't bring her back." He snarled, voicing the greatest fear he had. Carol was lost, Carol was desperate, Carol had lost everything. What had he said to Lori only a little earlier? People who lose everything need something to latch onto. He wasn't the one who needed to save Carol. He wasn't the replacement, wasn't the one she needed to hang her hopes on, because sure as hell he would only disappoint her. He was a Dixon, after all, and Dixon's were "goddamned useless sons of bitches".

Tears spilled down Carol's cheeks, and Daryl turned away. He had already disappointed her. He was just like his fucking father, and Merle had been right the entire time. Daryl refused to give into the lump in his throat, refused to let his burning eyes get the better of him. He may be a piece of shit, but he'd be damned if he turned into a pussy.

"You bastard." Carol's whisper caught him off guard.

He scoffed, "Like I ain't heard that before."

She ignored his words. "You think I'm doing this because I've got nothing else? You think I'm looking for you to be my goddamned savior? You think that I want to be with you because of some sick sense of connection to my daughter?" Her breath caught, the slightest sob exiting the recesses of her throat. "Well, fuck you!"

Daryl couldn't help it, he stared at her. He had never heard Carol swear so vehemently before, never even heard her raise her voice. He clenched his fists, livid at her words. If anyone else in the camp had dared speak to him that way he would have pounded them into the ground, and probably stuck an arrow through their brain for good fucking measure.

"Fuck _you,_ Carol!" He whispered, "I ain't here to be your babysitter. I ain't her goddamned replacement. I ain't some dumb hick you can just screw with either! I'm not gettin' used to havin' you around only for you to throw yourself at danger. I'm not fuckin' losin' you too!"

She lunged towards him, tears streaming down her cheeks, dampening her long eyelashes. She was inches away from him and snatched him by the shoulder. "I don't think you are some dumb hick, Daryl! I don't _want_ you to be her replacement, I want you to be you!" Her voice was soft, and Daryl couldn't help but calm as he stared into her eyes. "I'm not screwing with you, and I already said I don't want to die."

"I can't lose you too." He murmured, "I can't look for you, too." His anger was gone, blown away in the face of her tears. He wondered if it would always be this way, everything coming down to Carol's happiness.

Carol settled herself beside him, still holding onto his shoulders. "Daryl." her voice was infinitely tender. "This is always going to be your choice. But you were never her replacement. I want you. You won't lose me."

Daryl felt like he was hanging at the end of a rope, fighting a losing battle staring into her eyes. "I can't."

"Why?" She asked, "Because you don't want me?"

"That ain't why." He murmured, breaking away from her gaze and watching the floor. He was glad that their fight hadn't gotten beyond heated whispers. The last thing they needed in this moment was the herd breaking into the stables.

"Is this to do with the scars on your back?" Carol questioned, her voice incredibly gentle.

Daryl whipped his head to her, "How the hell-?"

She interrupted, "Daryl, when you almost died, searching for Sophia. I brought you food, remember? I saw them then."

Daryl flushed, remembering the shame he had felt as he had snatched for the blankets to cover himself, and the softness of her lips on his forehead.

"Jus' scars." He scoffed quietly, shocked at how easily she had seen through him.

Carol laughed bitterly, "No way. Those weren't just scars, Daryl Dixon. Those were beltings, beatings, breakings. Jesus, you wanna talk about scars!" She stood, looming over him in the dusky light. In one quick movement Carol spun, putting her back to him, and ripped her shirt over her head. Her skin was ivory in the stable's light, and only a slim white bra strap broke up his view. Daryl couldn't help himself as he climbed to his feet to see what it was she was showing him. The expanse of her back was covered in ivory scars, some of them looking pink and recent, and the majority faded with age. Her back practically mirrored his own, and Daryl's rage leapt out of control as he lifted dirty fingers to her skin.

She flinched as he settled his hand on he shoulder blade, running a gentle fingertip down one particularly nasty scar. It was long and thin and ridged, as if it had taken weeks to heal.

"That one was a knife." She whispered, her voice weak.

Daryl rubbed at his eye with his other hand, refusing the impossible idea that a tear had escaped him for the woman in front of him. He would deny it to the death.

"Did Ed do this?" His voice was dark, full of danger.

She nodded, and Daryl wished he could bring Ed back, show the bastard just how sloppy he had been with a knife. Fuck, Daryl wished so hard in that moment that he had a knife and Ed within his reach so he could give the bastard twice as many scars.

Daryl settled his other hand on Carol's other shoulder blade, ignoring her flinch. He wondered how he hadn't noticed it before, how she flinched if anyone touched her back. She was probably good at pretending, probably good at hiding the abuse.

"You're safe now." He told her. It was a lie, there were walkers wandering around the stables. There were no more doctors. She could get an infection, or cancer, or even a cold, and they wouldn't be able to save her. But it was also the truth, because as long as Daryl breathed he would never allow anyone to harm Carol like this again.

"I'm with you." She said softly, responding to his words. It warmed him, knowing that she felt safe with him, safe enough to show him her scars, and let him touch her skin.

He let his forehead rest on the nape of her neck, his breath causing goosebumps to break out all over her skin. Daryl brushed his lips over the scar he had noticed earlier, another tear he would forever deny trekking down his face.

"Daryl." Carol whispered, "Will you show me yours?"

Daryl swiped the tear away and pulled away from her back. Turnabout was fair, and Daryl could be no less brave than the woman in front of him. He spun, his back to her and pulled off his shirt, the same as she had done.

He felt it, her staring at them; when the whispers of her fingers landed on his back he didn't even flinch, immensely proud of himself for that. She followed the line of scars all over, trailing fingers for what seemed like forever. She settled her face into the curve of his spine, and she made no effort to hide the tears. They seeped into his skin, and she pushed her arms around his waist to connect over his stomach.

He rested one hand over hers, amazed at the difference in size. He could do so much damage, with his hands, and yet, for the first time ever he had managed not to hurt someone. He had helped, hell, he had healed.

"Daryl," her voice was shaky, "I meant what I said. I do want you."

"I hate him." Daryl blurted. "I hate him so fuckin' much."

"Ed?" Carol laughed against him, "Most days I do, too."

"I woulda killed him, you know. If I had known. Hell, I wish I could bring him back just to kill him again." Daryl hissed, his hand squeezing Carol's.

"He gave me Sophia." Carol whispered. "Granted, I wish she had a better daddy, like you would have been. But still, she was the best thing I ever did with my life. I don't regret that. I would have taken a thousand knives for her. Would have let him hit me as much as he liked."

"You did." Daryl whispered. "You did let him do that, for her."

Carol nodded against his skin.

"You really mean that?" Daryl whispered, "About me?"

"That I want you?" Carol wondered, "Or that you would have been a good daddy?"

"Jesus, I don't know." Daryl said, "Both?"

Carol nodded once more. "Daryl, I meant everything I said. Of course. But, it's your choice. I said that from the beginning."

He let go of her hands, and stepped out of her arms, turning to face her. She stared up at him, wearing nothing but her bra and jeans. She was suddenly so tiny to him, so damn petite and fragile. The scars continued on her front, and he reached out to settle his fingers over her heart, where a jagged X lay.

"Said he'd cut out my heart if I left him." Carol told him, emotionless. Daryl flinched at the words, his eyes closing in the face of Ed's brutality.

"Fuck, Carol." he muttered, "I don't want to hurt you." He opened his eyes to see her staring at him incredulously.

"Daryl, Ed left scars all over me, and brutalized me. He would have killed me if he thought I deserved it. He was going to..." she swallowed hard, "he looked at her. He looked at Sophia, in such a way. It was... evil. All you've ever done is protect me, and my daughter. You searched for her. You came for me. How the hell are you going to hurt me, Daryl Dixon?"

Daryl clenched his jaw. "That's what Dixon's do. We hurt people."

"I'll take my chances." Carol told him. "The worst thing that would happen to me in your care is being annoyed to death."

Daryl scowled, "How am I annoyin' you!"

"Cause you won't tell me if you want me or not, and I-"

Daryl clasped her neck and brought his mouth down to meet hers, pulling her closer to him. She came willingly, pressing her body against his, skin meeting skin. His hands floated down her body, settling at her waist, and he lifted her up to him, her slim legs wrapping around him.

She was too light, and Daryl made a note to himself to let her eat the rest of the rice pudding. Her hands rushed to his hair, pulling him as close as he could get. He broke their kiss to lay her on the blankets, her skin soft and smooth and inviting.

Daryl shook his head to clear his thoughts, unsure as to how to proceed. The warmth of her legs around him was driving him to distraction, and she had a coy smile on her face that made him think his future was already decided. Her eyes were sparkling, and Daryl thought that this was the most beautiful she had ever looked, and he would remember this exact moment forever to think back on.

"What?" She murmured, her hand finding it's way to his cheek.

He sighed, "You're perfect." The words were awkward in his mouth, the compliment coming out poorly. Daryl doubted he had ever said something nice to a woman in his whole life, especially something like that.

Carol beamed at him though, and Daryl wondered if perhaps to her the words had been exactly the right thing to say. "So are you." She replied, pulling him down to meet her mouth again. He kissed her gently, and pulled back once more. It was impossible to think clearly with her underneath him, staring up at him with such intensity.

"Daryl, what are you thinking now?" Carol was exasperated, and Daryl set his head on her shoulder, breathing hard.

"Fuck, I'm a damn woman." He muttered, "The only goddamn man left who would over think this."

Carol giggled, "Well, what are you thinking?"

Daryl decided it was time to man up. "I'm thinkin' that I don't know what the hell to expect from this. From you. I don't know how to be this, how to do this!" he grimaced, "Well, I know how to do _this_, I just meant...aw, shit, you know what I'm tryin' to say?"

Carol's eyes were crinkled at the edges, and Daryl wondered how often she got to show off her laughter, and decided he wouldn't begrudge her for laughing at him, just this once. Besides, hadn't he once wished he could see her laugh? Hear her laugh, and even be the reason for it? He could never dislike her laughter.

"Daryl, I want you. I don't mean for just right now. Jesus, what do you think I am?" She muttered, "I'm not asking for forever, you're not exactly the forever type. But, I mean, hell, it's the end of the world, I figure I might as well spend it with you."

Daryl scowled down at her. "I don't hug. I don't hold hands, and I'm not a fuckin' comforter. I ain't never brought a girl home, and if there still was a home, I still probably wouldn't. If I'm mad, don't talk to me. I don't say sorry, and I _will_ fuck up. If Merle ever comes back, don't you _dare_ go near him." he sighed, "And I hate that cryin' shit."

Carol bit her lip, making her look almost irresistible. "And let me guess, you're the jealous type?"

He glared, "And you're a goddamn angel. C'mon, I gave you my terms."

She laughed again, almost making him smile. "I cry a lot, I'm a little screwed up, I will freak out if you sneak up on me. I'm terrified of most everything, and I generally avoid men, so you can rest easy." She frowned. "I'm nosy, I'm a know-it-all, and I'm probably too sensitive. Also, I can be a huge bitch."

"Yeah, right." Daryl muttered, "Hell, you're too nice."

Carol smirked, "Try me in seventeen days. Trust me, avoidance is the best method."

Daryl flushed, finally realizing what she meant. "Oh."

She laughed, "There a problem, Daryl? I mean, I'll probably ask you to go tampon shopping in the near future."

"Ask Glenn!" He snapped.

She shrugged, drawing his attention to her slender shoulder and the white strap that he wanted to remove so badly. "Alright. I guess I'll ask Glenn _really_ nicely." Her voice went sultry, and Daryl stiffened at the doe eyes she gave him. Damn, the woman was manipulating him!

He growled, "Glenn's too afraid of me to think anythin' of you and your bedroom eyes."

Her arms went around his neck, breasts pushing into his chest. "Alright, no more teasing. So, do we agree?"

"On what? That we're together?" Daryl rolled his eyes, "Or that we're _dating_."

"Together." She said, matter of factly. "Exclusive."

Daryl scoffed, "Yeah, there were _sooo_ many other options."

"Andrea." Carol snapped, "She's beautiful."

Daryl smirked, "Oh, so you're jealous too. And no, she's a dumbass who shot me!"

Carol flushed, "Well, shut up. Do we agree?"

"Fine."

"Fine!" Carol snapped.

Daryl frowned, "What do we tell the others?"

Carol shrugged, "Whatever you want. Nothing, everything. I don't care."

"So if I go over there, and tell them that you and me are together, and we're gonna share a tent, and all that shit, you're okay with that?" Daryl drawled.

Carol scowled at him, but her expression softened suddenly, as if it dawned on her why Daryl had asked such a stupid question. He shifted restlessly, afraid of her answer, and trying to keep his weight off of her. His arms were tired, but he didn't want to move away from her just yet.

"Daryl, I would be proud if you marched over there and told them that." She whispered, her voice soft and sincere. Daryl blinked harshly.

"Good, cause rumors are gonna get out, y'know." He muttered, looking away from her. His heart raced, unsure what to do with her words, but grateful he had heard them. Merle's voice faded a little in his head, and Daryl smiled down at Carol.

"Let's get outta this stable." He said softly.

She scowled, "Um, Daryl, we were about to... well, start something here." Her hand gestured beside him, as if to point out the fact that her soft skin was driving him mad.

He leaned down and kissed the X scarred over her heart. "Naw," he kneeled, pulling her up with him. "We did start somethin', and we're gonna do it right."


	7. Escape

**Chapter 7: Escape**

A/N: Sorry for the (SOOO) long update time! Midterms are here, I got a new job, and I'm a sickly person, so I'm busy busy busy! But I've been writing up a storm because of all your lovely (seriously, amazing and incredible and I love you ALLLLL) reviews, so updates should be quick once more :) Review!

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><p>Carol was simultaneously annoyed and frightened, and Daryl knew it. They were on the main floor of the stables once more, hearts pounding. Daryl had his crossbow out, and Carol was carrying the cans of food, trailing behind him. The stable walls creaked around them, making them jumpy. Still, walkers weren't after them yet, and the moans from outside seemed less frenzied. Perhaps some were heading off, finally.<p>

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Carol practically breathed the words, so close to his side Daryl was getting flustered.

He shrugged, "Don't got much choice."

She was silent for a long minute, fear playing in her eyes. "I don't want to get bitten."

Daryl turned, watching her for a second, seeing how hard she was trying to be brave. "I ain't lettin' you get bit. Ain't I s'posed to protect you now?"

She almost smiled, as if his words took away the fear and threat that was looming over them. "I think you were supposed to be protecting me before too, you know."

He shrugged, "C'mon, nothin is gonna get ya." His crossbow was loaded and ready, and Daryl had his knife at his belt just in case. Carol was eyeing him dubiously, and Daryl was torn between being annoyed at her doubt, and being proud that she trusted him enough to even follow him.

They reached the door, peeking through the slats, watching as Hungry milled around the farm. It was awful, horrible, to see them trampling through the place they had used as a safe haven -as a home!- for so long. It reinforced the fact that nowhere was safe anymore. Reinforced the fact that they had to _go, _they had to _move!_

"We're not staying here anymore, are we? I mean, we need to leave as soon as we can." Carol's voice was nearly silent, heard by Daryl only because of her proximity.

Daryl nodded, still scoping the best way to get back to the farm house. There weren't too many walkers around anymore, but there was definitely enough to be a hazard. The bonus was that they didn't move very quickly; as long as they could run faster than the herd they could get to the house.

The problem came when Daryl realized he needed to notify the others that they would be coming. What if they didn't open the goddamn door, and left Carol and himself on the porch to become a meal?

Daryl wrenched himself away from the door, pacing the floor as silently as he could. He hated this, hated being trapped and hidden away. He despised the fact that he was surrounded, incapable of action; dependent completely on others.

And he had another depended on him.

Daryl somehow didn't mind this fact quite as much, seeing as Carol was watching him pace silently, not interrupting his thinking. Most everyone else in the group would have tried to talk to him, tried to help him plan. Most everyone else thought he was dumb as shit, and couldn't plan neither.

Carol definitely didn't think he was stupid, seeing as she was entrusting her life to his strategical skills.

"Carol!" He finally hissed, an idea springing to mind. "D'ya have any extra fabric on you? Another shirt? Your underwear? Anythin'?"

She smirked, and it was completely sensual and went straight to his gut. "Why, Daryl, I do believe you missed your chance for that when we were in the loft."

He let out a short laugh, a warm sound in a den of danger. "I wasn't meanin' that! It's for a message, y'know, for the others."

Carol frowned, "You want to send a piece of my clothing to them as a message. You're such a caveman."

Daryl gaped at her, "Damn woman, that's not what I meant! I was sayin'-"

Carol giggled quietly, "I know, I'm just teasing."

Teasing; Daryl had never really had a whole lot of teasing in his life. Mocking, anger, fighting... sure, he knew what those were. But he had never had anyone tease him playfully before.

He scowled, "Carol, you're s'posed to be scared, not crackin' jokes!"

She sighed, "Took my mind off this whole situation, a bit."

Fuck, he shoulda just let her poke fun, shoulda just let her tease him into the ground. He was turning into an emotional wreck with her standing there nervously, wanting simultaneously to shut her up and console her, and he was apparently good at neither of those things.

"There's a cloth for the horses, I'll get it." She ducked behind one of the stable walls for a moment, peeking back out with a dirty blue rag in her hand. "Is this okay?"

Daryl took it and spread it out, measuring its size. He pulled his knife and set the cloth on the flattest part of the ground. Cutting ever so carefully, he managed to slice a message into the fabric. When he held up his finished product Carol smiled.

"Back door. Ten mins." She repeated in a whisper.

He stood, rolling his shoulders. He pulled an arrow and attached the cloth to it through a small rip. It would change the direction of the arrow's flight, but Daryl was nothing if not a damn good marksman, even with interference.

"Hold this." He handed the knife to Carol and started to climb the scaffolding of the barn, hauling himself onto a small ledge where a latched barn window lay. Ignoring the slivers that dug into his palms every few seconds Daryl pulled himself in front of the window, balancing quite precariously on a beam. He unlatched the window and opened it wide, staring straight across the yard to the house. There was a single light on, one that he hadn't seen from the ground. They had a lamp in one of the upstairs hallways. It was barely lit, but it proved that they were still alive, and still aware.

He slung his crossbow into his arms and took aim, too high and a bit to the left, knowing the rag should drag the arrow straight into the window. He fired without a second thought, grateful again that he had a weapon he knew how to use that was silent.

The bolt went farther right than he expected, and instead of going straight through the window it buried itself in the shutter ouside the house.

"Fuck." Darly muttered, cursing himself. Granted, he was less than a foot off on a shot that was barely possible even without a rag warping the arrow's flight, but still, he had screwed it up.

But, for once, his shitty luck turned around as a face appeared in the window, scared and drawn. He recognized Maggie, even from this far away. She was talking to someone, and as soon as she saw the arrow she grinned broadly. Daryl was glad for once that Maggie was so obnoxiously nice, because if it had been Lori he wouldn't doubt she would let the arrow drop without a second thought.

He almost respected her for that; Lori was nothing if not ruthless at protecting her family. Still, if it had been her who found the arrow, and she had ignored it, he would have had to kill her. She protected Carl and Rick, but Daryl would be damned if she would harm him or Carol.

Maggie tugged on the arrow viciously, but it wasn't moving from the shutter. She pulled the cloth off, holding it up to see the message written on it. She turned immediately, and Daryl could almost imagine her bossing Glenn around.

She turned once more and stared hard at the stables, probably trying to make out his every feature in the barn window. Eventually she just held her arm out the window, her thumb extended. She shook this slowly up and down, as if to imitate a nod.

Daryl scrambled to the ground, finding Carol exactly where he left her, the knife clutched in her fingertips.

"We got five minutes." He told her, "Keep the knife, and get ready."

She nodded, trust filling her eyes. Daryl memorized every inch of that expression on her face, so genuine and different from the way anyone else had ever looked at him before.

He leaned down, a little awkward, a little unsure; her lips met him halfway, and one hand crept onto his neck, it's warmth surprising and pleasant. They pulled away, and she was almost smiling -almost, because she couldn't quite manage a full smile when they were about to run for the lives. Daryl couldn't force a smile either, although he was happy. Happier than he thought he could be while risking his life; happier than he had ever been even before the end of the damn world.

Goddamn Merle could fuck off, Daryl didn't need him. Guess after everything he owed Rick a favor.

"Let's go. Stay close, and run fuckin' fast." He unlatched the main doors, the scraping of the metal sounding ominous and too loud, despite the care he took to open it.

He cracked the doors, a minuscule amount, just to peek out. They were clear, no walkers were in line for the house. They would have a head start of seconds before the walkers started surrounding them.

"I hope you're fast." He muttered, then yanked the door open, wide as he could, and started to sprint. He didn't look back, reassured in the sound of Carol's breathing beside him. She was panting, probably more from fear than from actual exercise. Daryl wondered if he had ever moved this fast, and thought that he probably hadn't. Although it might have been possible in his desperate search for Sophia, that he had run this fast. Trying to find her, trying to escape the group, trying, trying, trying.

A squeak escaped Carol, and Daryl swung his eyes backwards for the first time since their sprint had begun. A walker was reaching for her, snatching at her shirt. Daryl was ready to pull his second knife and slaughter it, but Carol was a bit quicker than he had ever expected, and she struck out with the knife he had given her, slicing a finger off the walker's hand. It was by no means debilitating, but it did swing his momentum enough that he tumbled to the ground.

"Door! Door!" Daryl yelled in short bursts, his legs carrying him to the porch incredibly fast. The door was still sealed shut.

They were literally at the bottom of the porch stairs when the door swung open, Glenn holding the handle with white knuckles. Daryl threw himself into the threshold of the house and spun back to the door.

Carol barreled into him, gasping, the knife bloody in her hands. He lowered her to the floor, and for a second he recalled the last time he had done this exact motion: when Sophia had stepped out of the other barn. This time, Carol was screaming and crying and fighting him. He heard the knife hit the floor, and Glenn slammed the door, blockading it once more with all sorts of reinforcing two by fours, and a desk. Carol clutched the back of his sleeveless shirt, panting and gasping and pulling him close for reassurance.

He rubbed her back awkwardly and picked up the knife from the floor, watching Glenn turn to them in amazement and happiness. Maggie was pale, but smiling.

"We can't believe you're alive." she whispered, "Both of you. We thought both of you were dead."

Daryl shrugged, and pulled Carol to her feet. She was catching her breath, composing herself, but she still had a handful of his shirt in her hand. He didn't really mind, not if it made her feel safer. He liked that he made her feel safer; he liked that she took comfort in his presence.

"Take more than a couple of dumb walkers to get us." Daryl muttered. "Uh, thanks, for uh, you know, openin' the door."

Glenn laughed, nervously, his hand shaking, "Anytime, I guess. Come on, upstairs. We stay up there now."

They followed him through the house, Carol finally letting go of the fabric of his shirt, but sticking close to him. The stairs were piled with objects, a path cleared on one side. Glenn grabbed a small table on his way, and Maggie took two chairs.

"Grab something, we want to build the blockade back up again." Glenn grunted, strained with the weight of the table. Daryl snatched more chairs and Carol took the end table by the front door, which had been blocked off with a wardrobe. They let Carol and Maggie go first, holding the chairs and table at the top. Glenn took the end of the lineup, dropping his table in the middle of the stairs, and letting Daryl trail the other chairs behind it. By the time all the objects were piled up again it looked like an impenetrable wall of junk.

Rick was standing in the center of the sitting room upstairs, the rest of the group sitting around him. They all looked excruciatingly nervous, and when they saw Carol peeking out behind Daryl's form grins broke out everywhere.

"Carol!" Lori rushed to her, arms extended. Carol didn't hesitate in wrapping her up in a hug, and Andrea joined shortly after. Daryl scanned the room, nodding to Rick and Dale. Shane still looked pissed at him, but he seemed happy that Carol was alive and well.

It was Carl that took him by surprise, leaping off the couch and racing over, wrapping skinny arms around his waist. Daryl stared down at his mousy brown hair, shock flooding his body. Carl let go quickly, but he grinned up at him in a way that reminded of Rick, but more youthful, happier.

"Thanks Daryl. I knew you'd bring her back." He said, his grin unbroken by Daryl's surprise.

"You're welcome, I guess." Daryl muttered, heading over to the couch. He ignored everyone's glances at him, some of them surprised, some grateful. His crossbow was set against the wall, and Daryl laid the bloody knife Carol had used beside it.

The second he thought of her his eyes flickered upwards, checking on her. She was smiling with the other women, and Daryl had never been so pleased to see her in the light. She looked good, if still a little heartbroken over her daughter. She was laughing with Andrea, and Daryl watched as the corner of her eyes crinkled.

Goddamn, it was definitely something different in the barn than it was in the house. Jesus, in the barn she had _needed _him to keep her safe. But now? Now that she was back with the group; now that she was protected and shielded again?

What the fuck had he been doing, thinking that she'd still hang around him?

But as these thoughts ran through his brain, and Merle's voice washed through him with an acrid poisonous wrath, Carol glanced at him. Their eyes met, and Daryl froze, unsure what to do now that he had been caught staring and wishing and hoping. But Carol smiled, so gently and perfectly; the way she had in the barn.

Nothing had changed. Not in Carol, and certainly not in him.

She broke away from the women eventually, and came to sit by him. She sat close, but not so close that he felt pressured, or felt like everyone was staring at them. Everyone was busy anyway, talking and laughing and sharing small bits of food they had been hoarding.

"No one will say anything." She murmured softly, "It can be our secret."

Daryl frowned, "I don't wanna pretend."

"Then tell them." She shrugged.

He looked at her, really looked, then. There was no shadows or darkness to hide her face, and Daryl just watched her after she said those words, that meant so much to him. Terrifying, exhilarating, freeing, and so, so goddamn beautiful.

He shrugged back at her, "They ain't stupid. They'll figure it out."

She smiled, "So will we."

Daryl Dixon watched her navy eyes, and the smile that she shared with him. Then, he gave her a smile back, an absolutely real, genuine, once in a lifetime smile.

It was absolutely perfect, the most amazing moment Daryl had ever had. Everyone was chattering away, but he was sitting in perfect silence with another person, another person that he actually gave a shit about.

And that's when they heard the gunshots.


	8. Blood

Chapter 8: Blood

A/N: As always I am wowed by the review response :) I love you all! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm a little torn myself about how I feel about it. Still, next chapter is hopefully gonna be intense! This is obviously where this fic takes a turn from the show, seeing as the new episodes have started (yay, so excited!) sorry about the rant, review please!

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><p>Silence descended in the room, the type of silence that only happens when something has gone terribly, terribly, wrong. No one moved, no one even breathed, and somehow Daryl could feel his heart sinking, his throat clogging. It had to happen, it was <em>bound<em> to happen. He didn't know what 'it' was yet, but he had known that there was no way his happiness it was going to last.

Gunshots ripped through the silence, more of them. Daryl finally jumped to his feet, Shane snatching his gun.

"Everyone's here. Everyone is in the house." Rick muttered, "Who the hell-"

"Get your ass out here, little brother!" The voice was shockingly close, and it went through Daryl like a bucket of ice water. A thousand things went through his brain, a thousand emotions: hate, fear, love, panic, desperation, happiness, rage.

"Daryl Dixon, don't you fucking move, you bastard." Shane's voice was dark and low.

Daryl bristled, "He's my brother."

"He's a danger, one that's drawing every walker for miles." Shane hissed.

Daryl snatched his crossbow, "And you're a fuckin' saint? I ain't leavin' him to die, not again."

He pushed past Shane, heading out into the hallway and into the room where he had shot the arrow to warn Maggie. Rick was following him, as was Dale. It was classic, and obvious that those two would follow, because they felt guilty.

Daryl climbed out the window, "Hand me somethin', a bed sheet or some shit."

Carol's eyes met his as he clambered onto the roof, and she handed him a sheet. "I'll get another one. In case it needs to be longer."

Daryl rushed down, hovering over the eaves of the roof and staring out into the semi-darkness. Goddamn Merle was there, sure as shit, sitting on top of a saddled horse and holding a gun, a bloody machete tucked into his pants. Walkers were all over him, converging in every direction, and he just kept shooting at them and grinning.

"Merle." Daryl called, his voice a little weaker than he would have liked. Merle spurred the horse towards him, sticking his gun into his waistband with the machete, his only hand snatching at the reins.

When he was just yards away from the porch he let go of the horses reins, stood up in the saddle and grabbed at the sheet Daryl was holding onto, his one arm's muscles bunching and straining. Walkers descended on the horse in seconds, and Daryl was pulling Merle onto the roof with every bit of strength he had.

Merle rolled himself onto his back on the roof, laughing a bit.

"Aw, hell, that was close." He gasped.

Daryl scrambled to his feet, staring at the horse struggling to shake off the walkers. "Shit, Herschel ain't gonna be happy."

"Who the fuck is Herschel?" Merle clambered to his feet, tossing his one hand out to catch Daryl in a hard smack to the stomach. "Jesus, ain't you happy to see me Darlina? You're long lost fuckin' brother!"

Daryl was so torn; torn between happiness at his only family being returned to him, and torn between near insanity by having the man who had both raised and tormented him returned from the dead. "How the fuck did you survive, Merle?"

"Cut off my own damn hand. No thanks to that cop and the cock-suckin' nigger." Merle's voice was venomous, and it wasn't until the slur left his mouth that Daryl realized he had become accustomed to T Dog being referred to with nothing less than respect. Daryl hadn't even realized that he himself no longer called him anything but his name anymore.

"They ain't that bad, you'll see, Merle." Daryl was hesitant to say more, no need to be called a pussy when Merle had been back for less than ten seconds.

"Goddamn, can't have you lovin' up on them. How the hell am I s'posed to strangle his black ass now." Merle chuckled.

Daryl started back to the window, where he could see Carol and Rick's faces, filled with incredulity and concern. Merle followed him, muttering about how he had been looking forward to killing T Dog and Rick, and how Daryl sucked all the fun out of everything.

Daryl slid through the window, tossing the grimy sheet on the floor. Dale was chewing his lip nervously, a habit he acquired soon after the CDC incident. Rick was standing stiff and tall, but Daryl didn't miss the fact that his hand was twitching toward his gun, ready to shoot Merle if he came at him. Daryl didn't blame him in the slightest.

"Long time no see Rick." Merle drawled, "You can relax, I ain't gonna kill ya. Daryl tells me you ain't half bad. Lucky fer you, I'm gonna test that theory."

Rick clenched his jaw. "Glad to see you're alive, Merle. We came back looking for you."

Merle scoffed, "Damn good job you did. The vehicle was appreciated though, thanks."

Rick narrowed his eyes, and swallowed forcibly. "Yes. We were glad of the sign that you were okay."

Merle scoffed and held up the stump of his hand, black flesh still clung to the edge from where he had cauterized his wound. "Yeah, I was damned peachy."

"How did you find us?" Daryl asked. His words were meant to come out pleased and proud, but he could hear the edge of annoyance in them. Merle missed it, which was good. He was never good with social cues.

"Took me a while, but the explosion tipped me off when you went to that fancy ass centre. Then I followed ya'll t'wards Fort Benning, only place that damn well made sense. Saw the sign for Sophia and started on foot. Found a walker hangin' in a tree, one of your arrows through it's eye. Waste of an arrow, I taught your ass better than that." Merle chastised lazily, "The horse was the last clue, and it knew it's way home."

"Well, now you're stuck in the damn house with us." Daryl muttered.

Merle shrugged, "Ain't worse than stuck on a roof. Can't believe you dumbasses lost a kid though, really? Thought you'd know better, Daryl, gettin' yourself lost that one time ain't enough for ya?"

Daryl stiffened, and so did Carol behind him. She kept quiet though, and he wondered if his words in the stables were running through her head; "if Merle ever comes back, don't you _dare_ go near him". His words were mocking him now.

"Walkers chased her off." Daryl snapped, "She died."

For an instant, the smallest, most miraculous moment, Merle winced. It was comforting, seeing the same reaction of pain and fury on Merle's face as Daryl had felt. He may be a drug abusing sonofabitch, but he woulda looked for Sophia too, same as Daryl.

"You tracked her?" Merle asked quietly.

Daryl nodded, "Best I could. For days. You're a better tracker."

Merle shrugged, "I taught ya everythin' I know. I couldn't have found her any better than you could."

Daryl cleared his throat, both surprised and pleased by Merle's words. It wasn't often he got this side of his brother, and he wondered if perhaps absence did make the heart grow fonder, or in Merle's case, at least a little softer.

"Alright, 'nuff with this pussy shit, where's the food, and where the fuck is T Dog." Merle scowled, his one hand clenching.

"Merle..." Daryl was hesitant, "You can't kill him."

He scoffed, "I could."

Daryl snatched his shoulder, "No, you couldn't. We won't let you."

Everything went silent again, the tense kind, where something was about to go wrong. Merle glared, Daryl didn't let up, and everyone held their breath.

"You gonna stop me from hittin' him?" Merle growled.

Daryl let go of his shoulder. "Nah, he probably expects that. But I'm gonna stop you from anythin' else."

Merle shrugged, pushing past Rick a little rougher than was necessary. Rick didn't say a word, and followed Merle slowly. T Dog was standing in the hallway alone, looking a surprising mixture of relief, fear, and anxiety. Merle didn't wait for any words, he just marched right up to him and slugged him as hard as he could in the face. T Dog crumpled, his hands flying to his nose.

Merle rolled his shoulder, "I lost my hand, I broke your nose. Guess it's as even as I'll get without a saw."

T Dog was angry, but he nodded sharply and marched towards the bathroom to clean himself up. If that was as much revenge as Merle Dixon was going to take for the loss of his hand, then he would suck it up.

Somehow, Daryl just couldn't see Merle being that merciful. He was goddamn well up to something, playing all nice and shit.

Merle strode into the room like he owned it, staring down everyone. Lori had Carl tucked away behind her, and Daryl noticed that Carol was hidden behind him as well. Her hand was pressed against the small of his back, and it surprised him that he hadn't jumped away as soon as she placed it there. As it was he was practically crowding her into the wall, striving to put distance between Merle and Carol.

"Aw, shit. Stop, I ain't gonna kill y'all." Merle muttered. He was glaring. "Just came to find my brother."

Rick nodded once decisively, "You're welcome to stay if you leave well enough alone."

Merle flopped onto the couch and kicked his boots out. "Good, cause we ain't gettin' outta this house and back on the road without a damn good plan."

Abruptly, Daryl was exhausted. He was so tired; tired of running and hiding, and already sick and tired of Merle's shit when he had only been here ten minutes. He scrubbed his eyes briefly, unsure how he should act or what he should do. It was probably considered his responsibility to watch Merle, seeing as he had been the idiot to pull him up onto the roof.

Fuck it. Daryl didn't want to watch his brother, didn't want to be responsible for himself, Merle and Carol. He'd watch out for himself, and goddamn the rest.

He amended that thought when Carol's hand rubbed a circle into his back, and he glared once more at Merle. Fuck Merle. Daryl Dixon officially watched only himself and Carol's back.

"I'm goin' to bed. I'll sleep in the hallway." Daryl muttered, pulling a blanket off a bookshelf and heading to the door.

"Take the room," Maggie pointed to her left, "You've been sleeping in the stables for a while, not us. You need a bed."

Daryl nodded, too tired to argue with her. Carol was watching him, but Daryl had no goddamn idea what he should say. He sure as hell wasn't going to invite her to bed with everyone standing there.

As it was, he brushed past her and headed to the spare room. He went to the bathroom first and had the quickest and coldest shower of his life. The bed was incredibly soft and Daryl let himself curl up on top of the covers, the blanket he had stolen from the bookshelf over his legs.

He didn't realize he had been asleep until he sat up with his fists clenched and ready. Carol was standing at the foot of the bed, shaking her head at him.

"I didn't mean to wake you." She murmured.

Daryl let his fists drop, "How long have I been sleepin'?"

She shrugged; the movement emphasized how thin her shoulders were. "A couple of hours. Everyone's pretty much asleep, and I didn't want to hang around till it was just Merle and I."

Daryl rubbed his eyes. "Good." He yawned and laid back into the bed. Carol didn't hesitate, she crawled on top of the sheets and lay in front of him. Her eyes were huge in the dark room, and worried. She didn't say a word.

Daryl sighed, torn between annoyance and amusement. "You want me to talk 'bout it." It was a statement, and Daryl softened his gruff words by spreading the blanket over Carol.

"Only if you'd like to. I know you didn't think he was coming back. And I know you don't want me near him."

"He's my brother." Daryl muttered, wondering if she could hear every strand of love and hatred and jealousy and anger in those words.

Her hand reached out and rested over his heart. "Sometimes, family goes beyond blood, Daryl. Sometimes, what we're given isn't what's good for us, and we need to find what we need."

Daryl scoffed, "You turnin' into Dale over there?"

She giggled, and the sound made Daryl's anger fade and his lips turn up. "God I hope not, I don't need you calling me 'old man' at every turn."

Daryl reached out, unsure exactly what he wanted from her -but she knew, she always knew, even when he had no goddamn idea- and she moved close to him to share her presence. Her head rested on his arm, and she felt so tiny and breakable in his grasp.

"I don't want you near, Merle." He whispered. Goddamn, he did sound like a pussy, but some things were worth it.

She smiled softly, "You mentioned that."

"He'll hurt you." Daryl murmured, so softly he could pretend he wasn't even saying it. "To hurt me, y'know."

"You won't let him." She whispered back, and her faith in him was so absolute it nearly broke his heart.

Daryl choked, just slightly, just enough that she noticed it. "I'll try, I will, Carol, but he's like -mother fuckin' damn, he's so cruel. He can be, he can be so bad. He's my brother, but he's like fuckin' Ed, and I _hate_ him."

Carol lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek. "Shhh. Daryl, I won't let him hurt us. Neither of us."

His lips found hers, and it was soft, gentle, and everything Daryl Dixon had never known in his life until he had found Carol. He would be damned before he let Merle near her, before he let his brother anywhere near the group he had travelled with and fought with and lived with. Carol was right, there were things stronger and better than blood.


	9. Knuckles

Chapter 9: Knuckles

A/N: Thank you reviewers, you make my day! I updated super quick just for you all, yay! I'm on holiday, so we should get a few more chapters out quickly :) This chapter is... fun. I like it actually, because I like when Daryl's all tough and stuff haha. Review please!

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><p>The bed was empty, and Daryl couldn't help the immediate panic that brought him to his feet. He tossed the blanket that had fallen to the floor back onto the rumpled bed and strode towards the door, ready to track Carol down. He had become accustomed to her presence on the bed beside him, and he didn't like that she had left so early in the morning.<p>

"Daryl?" He whirled to face the voice, seeing Carol staring at him curiously, a towel wrapped around her head.

"Jesus, woman!" He snapped, but there was no real anger in his tone.

She laughed, "Did I frighten you?"

He scoffed and peeled himself from the door to approach her. She looked clean and happier than she had in days.

"Merle's in the sitting room." She murmured, "I went out earlier to see who was around."

"Damn, that wasn't no dream, hey?" Daryl groused.

She smiled softly at him, "Sorry, he's here."

Daryl pulled her into him, tower and all, letting his arms surround her. She smelled good, and it was rather nice to have someone with you who trusted you. Daryl finally understood why Rick had gone through such hell to find Lori.

"Hey Daryl, I was thinking. I know you don't want me near Merle, which is fine by me, but did you want to... umm, keep _us_ a secret now, too?"

Daryl stepped back, letting his arms fall to his sides. He must have shown some sort of vulnerability in his expression, because immediate Carol was snatching him back towards her, worry in her navy eyes.

"Daryl, I didn't mean... I mean, uh, Daryl, I'm sorry! I didn't mean I wanted to keep it a secret, I just wanted you to have the option, you know?"

He shrugged, and pushed past her sitting on the bed. Daryl didn't want her pity, didn't like that she'd seen him as anything but strong. Carol followed him, of course, he hadn't really expected anything else.

She crawled onto the bed, kneeling in front of him. "Daryl, please. I'm quite happy to tell the whole world. We've already talked about this. I just thought Merle would have changed your mind about me..."

He glared at her, "Merle doesn't change anything."

"Good." Carol crawled onto his lap, wrapping her legs around him. She kissed him, reassuring him with only a touch. She pulled away long enough to whisper, "So we're telling them?"

"I ain't hiding shit." Daryl said, placated by Carol's lips.

She grinned, "Me neither."

Daryl smiled, he couldn't help it, something about Carol was just so infectious. He wanted to take care of her, he wanted to make her happy, and proud, and safe.

"Come on, you need some food."

She rolled off of him, "Ready for people to ask questions when we come out of this room together."

"Can I tell them to piss off?"

She giggled, "If you like."

For the first time since the whole world had ended, since walkers had taken over and people had started devouring each other, Daryl was immensely grateful. He never would have met Carol, never would have known a little girl named Sophia and looked for her. He never would have been associated with her.

Ed would still be alive.

It was this thought, more than any other, that got to him. Daryl thanked whatever God was looking out for Carol that day, and he supposed that he was probably going to hell for being grateful a man was dead, but he didn't give a shit.

He'd go to hell happily as long as that monster was there with him.

Carol opened the door, heading towards the sitting room where voices could be heard. The other bedroom doors were closed, and Daryl supposed that Lori was probably resting in one of them. Rick made her lay down every chance he got, seeing as she probably wouldn't get a lot of chances later on, and the baby needed the relaxation in this high stress time.

"I'm going to get some food." Daryl told her, going towards the cupboard across from the other bathroom where they had stored all of their food. Daryl had put the cans Carol had brought to the stable in the cupboard the night before, so he didn't feel too bad for taking the can of rice pudding that was rightfully Carol's.

Hell, he wished for a squirrel in that moment, and he wondered where Glenn had put the ones he had scavenged. The group could use a bit of protein, especially if they decided to make a run for their cars in the next few days.

Daryl walked into the sitting room, seeing Maggie, Glenn, T Dog and Carol playing some sort of board game and laughing together. Carol was sitting with Andrea and Dale, and Merle was looking both a little angry, and a little lonely by himself. It was a dangerous combination, because it usually led to Merle either getting high, or getting mean. Just like Daryl, he didn't like to be viewed as weak.

Daryl had cut the can open, and handed it to Carol with a spoon. "Eat it all." He ordered. She rolled her eyes and gave him a mocking salute, but lifted a heaping spoonful to her lips.

Daryl set himself beside Merle, not saying a word. Merle would talk if he wanted to.

"You fit in." He said, eventually. The words weren't vicious, or even mocking; they were just surprised.

Daryl shrugged, "Mostly."

"Even Rick likes you."

Daryl scoffed, "It's cause I looked for Sophia, the little girl. They didn't think I'd care enough to."

Merle rolled his eyes, and Daryl noticed for the first time they were bloodshot, dark bags emphasizing the exhaustion lining his face. "You never were one to let some kid suffer."

"Neither were you." Daryl retorted quickly.

"That was a long time ago." Merle snapped.

Daryl nodded. "Yeah. But you still looked. Still kicked the shit outta our old man."

Merle smirked, and it wasn't a nice smirk, it was angry, and mean, and spectacularly triumphant. "Fuck, I did do that. Thought that old bastard was gonna die on us."

"He was tough." Daryl muttered, and he wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a complaint.

Merle nodded, "So are we. Thanks to him. 'Bout the only goddamn thing I'll ever thank him for."

"And the money." Daryl added.

Merle scoffed, "Fat lotta good that's done us nowadays."

"Still got cash if this world ever goes back to normal." Daryl muttered.

Merle chuckled, almost wistful. "What would you do first?"

Daryl had a million ideas, a million thoughts about what he would do with the money his bastard father had left them when he died, but he was never going to tell Merle any of them. They were far too humiliating. _Buy a house with a fence, learn to cook, go back to school, fucking buy a school and hire Carol as a teacher. _Jesus, he was turning into a woman.

"New crossbow. New motorcycle." Daryl said absentmindedly. "Maybe a dog."

Merle looked at him, "A dog?"

Daryl shrugged, "Yeah, like a Rotty, or a Doberman. Somethin' big for huntin'."

Merle nodded, "And that's my motorbike you have, little brother."

"Yeah, you can have it back." Daryl said, almost mourning the bike before it had even left him for it's rightful owner.

"You thought I was dead, I don't-"

"No, I didn't." Daryl interrupted. "I didn't think that." '_I prayed for it, god help me, but I never believed you were dead. I said it, didn't I? "Nothin' can kill Merle, but Merle."' _His thoughts mocked him. "And I did look for you."

"I woulda looked for you harder, and longer." Merle snapped.

Daryl glared, "For a while, until you found your drugs and got high and forgot."

It was a tense few seconds, and they glared at each other, both fists clenched and muscles tightened. Then Merle laughed.

"Probably true. Plus, you had other things to _do_." Merle held onto the last word, his eyes flicking towards Carol's back.

Daryl scowled, "Yeah, like tryin' to find lost children, and huntin' squirrels to feed everyone, and protectin' the group." His tone brooked no room for argument, and everyone in camp would have gone meek at his anger. However, Merle wasn't afraid of anything, and he sure as hell wasn't afraid of his kid brother.

"Protectin' the group? Feedin' everyone? You gone soft?" Merle mocked.

Daryl took a breath and forced himself to calm down. "Fuck you, Merle. We protected and fed this group when you were here too."

"We didn't goddamn well like it."

Daryl hissed, "Well you were gone, and I wasn't, so I looked after whoever the fuck I wanted."

"That includes some kid that ain't even yours!" Merle snapped. Daryl leapt to his feet, and everyone in the room was watching him, unsure how he was going to react.

"Bite your tongue." Daryl hissed, "I did what was right, and you were high somewhere while people were dyin'!"

Merle stood too, fury in his eyes. "High, was I? How about runnin' for my life because I only have one fuckin' hand!"

"I don't know what the hell you did to make Rick that mad. I ain't never been handcuffed to a roof before." Daryl raised his hands, mocking Merle. "See, both hands, Merle."

Maggie was hustling Carl out of the room, and Daryl was grateful for that, because he knew the look in Merle's eyes. He knew this would only get worse before it would get better, and usually you had to let Merle have his way to get him to stop.

"I shoulda handcuffed you to a roof as a kid, let you rot." Merle snarled.

Daryl sighed, "Well you didn't, Merle, and I don't wanna fight with you now."

Merle shoved him, hard enough for Daryl to stumble backwards. He was hyper aware of Glenn, Andrea, Dale, and most especially Carol, waiting behind him.

"Fuck you Daryl, if you wanna be a pussy, let's see how your whore fights."

The words made the room go silent for all of three seconds, when everyone except for Merle and Daryl were glancing around wondering who the hell Merle was talking about. Daryl didn't wait, wasn't phased by the silence around him, or the viciousness in Merle's eyes.

He had said the wrong fucking thing.

Daryl punched him, hard and fast, and let him slump against the wall for a moment. Then he pulled his knife and leaned over Merle's dazed form.

"You lay _one_ finger on her, you so much as _look_ at her wrong, and I'll cut off your other hand. And I ain't gonna stop with just your hand, Merle. Don't fuck with me." Daryl took his knife back and stalked to the door, ignoring everyone's stares. Merle was laughing, he was chuckling, and he was doing it to draw Daryl back, but it wasn't going to work, not this time.

Daryl thought of Carol in the barn, the way she had looked at him for protection. She trusted him. She wanted _him_. Daryl would shoot Merle dead before he compromised that. He had just proven how much Daryl didn't need him around, proven how much more he had when Merle wasn't with them.

So when it came down to the group, and Merle, the group would win.

"Daryl, what's going on?" Rick was worried, his shirt slung on hastily. Perhaps Lori wasn't napping after all.

"Merle and I had a disagreement, but it's fine." Daryl muttered, heading to the spare room to cool down. He shut the door and leaned on it, shaking his hand from where it stung. Merle had always had a thick skull, and Daryl still hadn't learned that it hurt to punch him.

Still it had been worth it. Daryl hadn't expected the fury he had felt when he had called Carol a whore; hadn't expected to lose it like he had. Merle had been surprised, for a second, Daryl had seen it. It wasn't like Merle hadn't called anyone he had slept with in the past worse, and Daryl had never cared.

But Daryl was different now. Carol was different. Goddamn, the whole fucking world was different; there was no way Merle would change that, no way Merle could.


	10. Interrupted

Chapter 10: Interrupted

A/N: How's this for quick updates! Hell yes :) Thanks for the reviews, as always. This chapter is... another one like the stables. A little out of character perhaps, but necessary and fluffy! Also, this chapter gets to what might be construed as an M rating. I don't think it's an M... but to be safe I'm warning you, haha? So enjoy and review :)

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><p>"Daryl," a soft knock accompanied the voice, "may I come in?"<p>

He pushed off from where he was leaning on the door and opened it, letting Carol come past him into the room they had shared. She was twisting her hands, and chewing her lip, and Daryl felt surprisingly guilty for stressing her out.

"How's your hand?" She asked softly, reaching out to take his bruised knuckles gently.

"Not bad. I think I've punched him harder before." Daryl said, "I ain't ever pulled a knife on him though. That sure surprised him."

She frowned. "Didn't seem surprised, he was laughing."

"Yeah, he wanted me to come back and fight, and I didn't wanna."

She smiled, and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I'm very proud of you."

Daryl felt himself flushing. "Cause I punched my brother, nice."

Carol laughed, "Not because you punched him, although he deserved it, may I add. But because you walked away. You never would have done that back in Atlanta."

"I didn't care if I stayed with this group or not, back then."

Her smile turned coy, "And you do now?"

Daryl scowled, "I guess. I ain't goin' back to Atlanta am I? And I ain't lettin' you get bit. So I have to stay."

Her smile fell instantly, "Daryl, you don't have to if you don't want to. I don't want you to think I'm making you stay here..."

"Shut up." He said, but his voice was soft, and gentle, and the type of tone he had never used in his entire life. Daryl kissed her, running his hands up her back. He wanted to see her back again, he had never been given enough time to see every scar; surely, not enough time to hate Ed enough, or to run his calloused fingers over every one? He wanted more.

Carol wrapped a hand around his neck, pulling him closer. Daryl let his hands fly to her ass, finally touching what he had admired from afar for so long. He lifted her without thought, letting her wrap her legs around him.

It wasn't a far march to the bed, and he laid her down carefully, watching almost reverently as she pulled her shirt over her head. Twice now she had shed her shirt in front of him, and both times he had been amazed and incredulous that she would gift him with this moment.

He pulled off his own shirt and let his knife sheath drop to the floor. Daryl refused to bring weapons into this, refused to let a knife come close to her after Ed.

They lay beside each other, barely touching. Carol's eyes were shiny, and Daryl wondered if she was going to cry.

"I ain't gonna hurt you." He was almost offended at the thought.

She smiled and rolled onto him, letting every inch of her skin mix with his. She was too pale, and too thin, and yet, so goddamn beautiful. "I know that. Of course, I know that."

"Then why're you..." he gestured at her face, "umm, cryin?"

She laughed and leaned down to kiss his chest, where his heart was thundering. "I'm not crying, I'm happy. Thanks for punching out Merle when he called me a whore."

"You ain't a whore." Daryl's voice was vehement and annoyed. Carol laughed again and kissed him, cutting off his anger midstream.

"Daryl," she was serious now, and the sheen in her eyes wasn't caused by happiness this time. "What Merle said... about Sophia-" She choked and cleared her throat.

Daryl reached up and pulled her down to him, letting her settle on his chest. He traced her shoulder blades, letting his fingers color spiderwebs over skin and scars.

"I meant it. I did what was right." Daryl murmured, "Ain't gonna matter to me if the kids mine, it's still just a kid. I'd look for Carl the same as I looked for Sophia."

"I just don't want you to ever think it didn't count." She whispered. "It did count. It meant more to me than anything."

Daryl knew he was supposed to say something, something wonderful and kind and meaningful in that moment: '_you mean more to me than anything, I love you, she was as good as mine, I would stay with this goddamn group forever if it meant you._'

All that came out was, "I just wish I found her."

"You tried. You tried so, so hard." Carol wiped her eyes, "Dammit Daryl, now I _am_ crying."

He kissed her again, and this time there was no stopping, no pausing, no waiting and hesitancy. It was him, and Carol, and everything that had culminated in the time that Sophia had gone missing, to her funeral, to the stables, to now was brought up in the heat between them.

Daryl flipped her over, absolutely dominating every inch of her mouth, her body. Her hands were scrambling for his pants, pulling at the buckle with desperation. He left her mouth long enough to unclasp her bra and stare at her.

"Carol." Her name was a whispered benediction on his lips.

She flushed, raising her hands as if to cover herself. Daryl snatched them, leaning down to kiss her between her breasts. "Don't you dare," he murmured, "you're beautiful."

Her hands went to his hair as he left a hickey on her chest. "Daryl!" She objected, giggling.

Daryl smirked at her, wondering if other people enjoyed this sensation of comfort and teasing when they were together. He'd never joked with anyone he planned on fucking before.

But that was the difference, wasn't it? He didn't plan on just fucking Carol; sure, he was hell bent on having her, but there was a hell of a difference between a trivial fuck in a bar hotel, and being together at the end of the world.

"You're mine." He told her, smirking as he rested his chin on her chest.

She nodded, "Yes."

The acceptance was all they seemed to need, because Carol was snatching at his pants again, and he was tasting every inch of her skin he could see.

"Daryl? Carol?" Glenn was outside the door, "We need to talk to you guys."

"Fuck." Daryl snarled, letting his head drop back to Carol's skin. She was giggling, almost imperceptibly, and he both hated and loved that she was laughing at him and their situation.

"We'll be out in a second Glenn." Carol said.

Glenn stuttered, "Oh, well, uh, take your time, I guess."

Daryl rolled over, groaning at their luck.

Carol kissed him, short and quick as she gathered up her clothes. She was humming, and he remembered that she had sung to the horses not so long ago. He had done this, he had made her happy enough to hum.

"I like when you hum." Daryl murmured, rolling to his side.

Carol threw a glance over her shoulder, slipping her shirt back on. It was almost a shame to see all of that skin covered up, and Daryl swore he would unveil it again at the nearest possible opportunity. Which would probably be tonight, seeing as they were sleeping in the same room, and he had basically told the world that they were together when he slugged Merle.

She crawled back to him, pushing him flat on the bed. Daryl marveled at this pushy side of Carol, and decided he kind of likes it.

"I like when you make me hum." She whispered, her breath hot and incredibly carnal on his skin. "You should do it again, perhaps sometimes soon?"

Daryl groans, "You're supposed to be the nice one!"

She kisses his neck, "I'll be nice if you want me to."

"This is nice." Daryl admits, both ashamed and proud that he's managed to say something sweet.

"You make me..." She sits up and blushes, her cheeks turning scarlet. "I'm very comfortable. With you, I mean. I like it. You're never going to laugh at me."

Daryl sits up so fast he startles her, but he wraps one arm around her so she can't go anywhere. "Did... did Ed laugh?"

Her eyes flick down, a sure sign. And hell if he didn't call it, her voice comes to him, weak and angry. "Yes. He also... was very unhappy. With, erm... my performance."

"I hate him." Daryl spat, furious.

Carol almost smiled, "You've mentioned that."

Daryl's hands found her face, and she looked at him, embarrassed. "I ain't never gonna laugh at you. I'm... surprisingly -and don't you dare go tellin' people this shit I say- happy."

She rolled her eyes, laughing a little. "Surprisingly?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't usually... hang around. Y'know?" Now it was his turn to be mortified, talking about his past sex life, as trivial and practically non existent as it had been.

"You're hangin' around now?" Carol asked.

He frowned, "Yeah."

"For sure?"

Daryl scowled, "Yeah."

She smiled, and it was one to rival the sun. "We're both a little fucked up, hey?"

"Speak for yourself!" Daryl chuckled.

Carol leaned in and kissed him, "Guess we should see what Glenn wants."

"Just this once, we indulge him. Next time he interrupts I'm tellin' Maggie about that time with the stripper." Daryl threatened.

"What time with the stripper?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged, "I'd bet my crossbow that boy ain't never seen a stripper, but if you tell a woman her man's been with a stripper, they damn well believe ya, even if it ain't true."

Carol burst out laughing, "Oh, god, Daryl. Don't ruin his life."

Carol climbed off of him, handing him his shirt. She was smiling, and Daryl was amazed that he had done that. She'd gone from barely moving with grief, to smiling and joking in a week. Because of goddamn Daryl Dixon.

"So, have you ever been with a stripper?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged, "Probably."

"You're supposed to say no!" She laughed

He frowned, "No, you would never believe me if I said no. This way, I'm being honest without telling you how many."

"How many?" Carol questioned, faking a glare.

Daryl smiled, "None that mattered."

She laughed, "Daryl Dixon, I thought you said you weren't very good at this, but from where I'm standing, you say all the right things."

"Well, you ain't half bad yourself." He murmured, awed at the easy way they bantered, and played and bickered.

Hell, if he wasn't in too deep already, and for the first time, that thought didn't fill Daryl with dread. How could he be angry and miserable when Carol was humming and grinning at him, sharing some sort of a secret that only they knew? She was perfect; this moment in time, with walkers and Merle and every possible threat surrounding them, it was absolute perfection.


	11. Running

**Chapter 11: Running**

A/N: So I don't know how I'm ever going to part with this story, but it's supposed to be ending soon! All you reviewers are wonderful, and I adore you. For the sake of this story, and Merle, I'm saying Daryl also has a truck? A little unsure if he actually does or not, but for the sake of this story, he does. I completely forgot Patricia in this story I realized, but I hate her, so just pretend she's gone, or dead or something haha.

Also, to anyone who saw last Sunday's episode (don't worry, spoiler free rant here) I just wanna say: gah, how shall I live without walking dead until Fall! And to anyone who knows what I'm talking about, what if Merle is part of Randall's group? Holy moly, I wouldn't doubt that. Anyway, enough rambling, here we go, a little more action, review!

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><p>Everyone was sitting in the room again, Merle had a cloth pushed to his nose and Daryl was viciously pleased to see he had obviously punched him hard enough to cause pain. Bastard deserved it.<p>

Glenn was red faced and couldn't even meet Daryl's eyes, and despite Maggie elbowing him it looked as though he hadn't mentioned a word about his interruption of Carol and Daryl's rendezvous.

Rick was pacing.

Daryl leaned against the door, Carol next to him; they both had sobered upon seeing the stress and worry on their groups' faces. Something was wrong.

"Merle's appearance made the walkers target the house again." Rick drawled, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.

"How bad is it?" T Dog asked. He had grown broader since Atlanta, and with his arms crossed he looked like he could even take on Merle and win.

Herschel was slow to answer, and Daryl had never seen him look so tired. "The door's almost down. We need to get out of here."

Beth started to cry, startling everyone with her presence. She rarely spoke a word to anyone anymore, with the possible exception of Jimmy or Maggie, and even then she seemed so fragile it was like she was already a ghost.

Maggie reached over and took her hand, squeezing it; Daryl glimpsed for one moment the woman that Maggie could become. She was strong, and willing to go the distance for those she loved. She could survive.

Beth however, was doomed. Daryl knew it, although he hadn't voiced his opinion out loud. There were certain things he didn't tell the group, because they wouldn't be appreciated. This was one of them. His knowledge of who would live and who would die. He wasn't always correct, but he usually had a good idea.

Beth would die, and Jimmy would follow her. Carol would have gone next, but with him protecting her she had been given a chance to outlive a few of them. Dale, then Shane. Despite his aggression, and obvious survival skills, his temper would get him in trouble one day. Shane's number would be up, and it wouldn't be for lack of skill, it would be because of stupidity.

"So we leave." Glenn voiced, his cheeks finally dulling down to a normal color. "If we need to go, then we find a way. Keep moving."

"And how," Rick sighed, "do you suppose we do that?"

Glenn shrugged, "It's not that hard, is it? We draw the walkers to the front door, and then Daryl and I get to the vehicles. Drive away."

"Why the hell am I your partner?" Daryl snapped, surprised he was dragged into Glenn's plan.

Glenn grinned, "Cause I'm fast, and you can kill walkers with your crossbow quietly. I need you to cover me."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "If you get yourself killed, it ain't on me. I'll kill them as best I can."

Glenn nodded, "I know, you won't let me get hurt. We'll get your truck first, and then we can load people into the bed, drive to our tent set up. We need to grab what we can and get all of our vehicles. It will be hard." For an instant, doubt registered on his face.

Rick smiled, "That's not bad, Glenn. Everyone needs to be in pairs though, and that way someone can grab things and the other can watch."

"Guns as a last resort." Shane muttered, "I don't like it, but we might as well not draw attention."

Lori was frowning, "It's not my favorite plan, but it's all we have I guess. How are we going to draw the walkers to the front door?"

Maggie stood, grinning maliciously, "Oh, I got an idea. We need Merle's towel, and someone to turn on the downstairs lights and music. Also, dad, do we still have meat in the freezer?"

Herschel nodded, watching his daughter carefully. "Yes, I believe there is beef."

"So we take Merle's blood, all the beef we can, put it all at the front door and make as much ruckus as we can. That oughta draw them."

"Wish we had somethin' live to draw them." Daryl muttered. "A cat or somethin'."

Beth stared at him, "You would sacrifice a cat?"

Daryl shrugged, "To live, hell yes."

Beth didn't respond, but she slowly sunk her head back into her hands, tears leaking from her blue eyes once more. Jimmy rubbed her back, but his expression was ruthless. He was on board with the plan.

"Carl, Lori, Dale and Beth, you better get in the vehicles first." Rick said, "Everyone else partner up and make sure at least one of you can use a weapon."

Andrea came over to Carol, and smiled at Daryl. "I'll stick with her if you're out with Glenn."

Daryl eyed her briefly, and nodded. Rick was with Maggie, and T Dog hovered over the much meeker looking Jimmy. Herschel stuck his hand out and shook Merle's one good arm.

"I'm stuck with Grandpa?" Merle rolled his eyes.

Herschel nodded, "I suppose so, but just remember boy, I can probably shoot a gun better than you can."

Merle's lips twisted into a grin, "I suppose so, but I can't carry shit, so you're stuck with me protectin' you."

Herschel shrugged, "You seemed to have no trouble surviving, I'm assuming you know how to wield a knife."

"When are we goin'?" Daryl asked, breaking up the banter between Merle and Herschel.

Glenn sighed, "I guess when you're ready. We'll pack up and try to go. We can't run the risk of them getting in the house before we're ready."

Maggie let out a laugh, and Daryl eyed her like she had gone off her rocker. Her eyes were shining with tears though, and Daryl realized this was probably one of those damn woman things where they show one thing and mean another.

"I guess we go. I'll go get everything set up. Andrea, would you mind accompanying me? You're good with a knife." Maggie's voice was a bit hoarse, but she seemed to be putting on a tough front, and Glenn watched her sadly. He didn't touch her though, and for that Daryl was grateful, cause he thought that at the smallest hint of pity or kindness she might damn well break. Crash to the floor and sob there.

Glenn clenched his fists, "Daryl, we might as well get ready to run as soon as that music comes on."

"I need a knife, too. Kill the close up bastards." Daryl muttered. He turned to watch Carol. She needed a knife too, he'd be damned if all that stood between her and a walker would be Andrea.

Rick went to the hall, finding all the weapons and provisions they had managed to stow in the house before the herd had come upon them. There were kitchen knives there, previously used for chopping fresh grown vegetables for dinner, soon to be embedded in a walkers skull.

He handed them out, making sure everyone was decorated in at least some sort of weapon. T Dog had a baseball bat, and the muscle to make it look threatening. Merle already had his wicked knife, and he obviously had no trouble wielding that.

Andrea headed for the door, gun tucked into the waistband of her pants in favor of a solid machete. Maggie followed her, and cast one last look at Glenn before she disappeared from sight. The look said everything: the love, the goodbye, the hope, the 'be safe'. Daryl never knew anyone could convey that much with a look, and he was embarrassed and annoyed at having even witnessed it. Shouldn't be seen by some goddamn bystander, but the end of the world had taken both lives and privacy along with it.

"Move your ass, boy." Daryl grumbled, hauling his crossbow over his shoulder. Glenn scrambled to follow him, probably as lost and scared as he'd ever been after Maggie's glance.

Carol's voice stopped him. "Daryl?"

"What?" Daryl glanced at her.

She was grinning at him, but there was fear in her eyes. "If I get hurt, don't kill Andrea, okay?" She was scared, but trying not to show it; joking, joking with him so he wasn't so worried about her. And she was honestly concerned he would kill Andrea?

Well, she should be. He would strangle her if Carol so much as got a fucking scratch.

"I make no promises." He muttered, stomping away. His temper was foul, and he knew it was a distraction to be so annoyed and caught up in Carol. He was worried, like a fucking mother hen, and he needed to be focused.

"Stop." Glenn muttered, surprising him. He was opening the window, the one Merle had appeared in so shockingly only a bit earlier. He crawled through, more gracefully than Daryl figured his gangly frame would let him.

"What?" Daryl snapped, following him.

Glenn sighed, "Worrying. Thinking about it. You probably don't wanna hear anything from me, but-"

"Damn straight I don't." Daryl muttered.

Glenn shot him a glare, "Well listen once so I don't repeat it. I nearly got myself bitten because I was worrying and thinking about Maggie. Froze up. You have to forget it, or you're gonna kill yourself thinking about getting back safe to her. Pretend she doesn't even exist. Only the end goal."

Daryl couldn't help the small amount of pride that bloomed within him. He had always rather liked Glenn, even though he'd rather stab his own heart out than admit it. The Asian was a good man, and he had what it took to survive, if he could just grow up a bit. Looked like he had grown up, and grown a pair of balls too -especially if he was going to tell Daryl off.

"Well, shit, Glenn. I think I'm gonna cry with that advice." Daryl growled.

Glenn rolled his eyes. "Carol has to be the most patient woman I've ever met. You wouldn't last five minutes with Maggie before she'd eat you alive for sassing her."

Daryl hunkered down over the eaves, legs dangling to the ground. Music came on, blaring inside the house. It was time.

"Why the hell would I want to spend five minutes with Maggie?" Daryl groused. "And I don't sass."

Glenn chuckled at his protests, sobering quickly. "Time to go. You ready? They're on the move."

"You better be a goddamn fast runner, or I'll shoot ya in the ass." Daryl muttered.

Glenn sighed. "You just keep up, loverboy." He dropped off the roof, tumbling on the grass. He leapt to his feet quickly enough, and Daryl swung his crossbow into his arms and followed suit, intent on knocking the Asian around a bit after they got out of this mess. Loverboy, whatever. Glenn was the one with the farmers daughter!

Glenn took off sprinting, and true to his word he was nimble. Daryl did have a time keeping up with him, and he was grateful that the end of the world had also meant the end of his bad smoking habit. He wouldn't be hacking up a lung at the end of this, thankfully.

He took out walkers from around Glenn, shooting them and stopping briefly to retrieve the arrow whenever he had time. He'd lose more than he'd save, but as long as he didn't run out halfway to the truck he'd be okay.

The herd was huge, all of them stumbling and crawling towards the front of the house where lights shone. Daryl could make out people throwing beef out of the windows, down to the feasting herd below.

They reached Daryl's truck at the same time he heard the crash. It was inevitable, but that fact didn't reassure him. The door was down, and walkers would be streaming into the household by now. The stairs had a blockade, but it wouldn't take long. It never did.

Glenn turned the keys, and for one heart stopping moment the engine didn't turnover. It roared to life after that though, either because Daryl's sheer force of will had made it so, or God had for once looked kindly upon them.

"Drive, dammit!" Daryl yelled; Glenn slammed his foot onto the gas, tearing up grass and spinning wheels. Walker's heads swung their way, and Glenn was careening towards the farmhouse, finally. Figures were standing on the shingles, and Daryl was leaning out the window with his crossbow just in case, but even so he couldn't help but count the figures.

Eleven.

They were all there.

Glenn pulled to a stop and Daryl didn't hesitate to shoot any walkers around the truck, letting everyone jump onto the roof of his truck before landing in the bed. There would be dents, and Daryl would treasure every single goddamn one because it meant that no one had died.

The very last person into the truck was Rick, and he hunkered down pulling Carl and Lori close to him, and Glenn once more hit the gas so hard Daryl wondered if anyone had fell off the truck. Everyone was there though, most lying low while Shane and Merle held their knives at the ready just in case a walker was lucky enough to get a hold on the truck.

They reached their makeshift camp and Glenn parked the truck, leaving it running. Everyone leapt out of the truck bed, and scattering in all directions, weapons drawn. Tents were torn down and thrown into cars, half made with poles sticking out. Anything that was within reach was grabbed and thrown into any nearby vehicle.

"Merle." Daryl found him, machete out and alone. "Where's Herschel?"

Merle shrugged, "Slowin' my ass down!"

"Fuck." Daryl cussed. "Take your keys!" He tossed his bike's keys to Merle, who let them drop to his feet. He raised an angry eyebrow and looked at the stump of his hand.

"I was jokin' asshole. Can't ride a bike anyway with no hand. Need the truck." Merle whipped around abruptly and took off a walker's head without a second thought. He had damn good survival instincts for a piece of shit, one-handed, addict. Daryl snatched his bike's keys off the ground and glared at his brother.

"Truck's running. Better get in and follow the RV." It revved to life behind him as he said this, and he walked away from Merle to find Herschel.

He didn't have to look far, Herschel was holding his own and packing any of the food he could find by the fire into the RV. People were disappearing into cars now, and walkers were swarming them. It was getting bad, and Daryl knew they had run out of time. They had packed up nearly everything that mattered though, and he wondered if anyone had ever moved that fast in their entire lives. The camp had been decimated in a matter of minutes.

Daryl saw his bike and slaughtered a few walkers on his way to it, kicking the engine to life and pulling it around to stare at the convoy. Rick was yelling at him, and he moved towards him.

"Where is Carol? Where is Andrea!" Rick yelled over the chaos. Daryl's blood ran cold, and he didn't answer the cop before he spun his wheels and started circling camp. They had to be here. They had been in the truck. They were somewhere in camp!

He found them, sprinting full tilt to the R.V. They had so much shit in their hands they could barely run, and walkers were all around them. Andrea had pulled her gun, and she started pegging them off with incredible accuracy. Daryl hated and loved her for it, but she was damn good with a gun and she was saving Carol's life.

Carol had a knife out though, and she looked well prepared to use it. It surprised him, but he was happy about it as well. She wanted to live, to protect herself.

He drove beside them, killing a few more walkers on the way. Andrea made the RV, leaping in through the door. Carol launched herself on the bike when he stopped it for a few seconds, and everything she had gathered was crushed between her chest and his back. It was uncomfortable, but Daryl didn't complain, he just took off, following the car that held the Grimes' family. Maggie and Glenn followed them in a small car, Merle and Shane in separate trucks behind, and the RV following as it usually did, a small comfort in an otherwise horrifying scenario.

Carol's arms wrapped around his waist, and although he couldn't feel her with whatever she had between them, it was comforting to have her hands locked over his stomach. He could tell she was crying though, and he wondered if it was because they were leaving the farm, or the chaos of the night. Perhaps it was because she was leaving the place they had buried Sophia? The last place she had seen her daughter, the place she had left her. She would never come back here, and that thought probably stung her; she had lost her daughter all over again.

He let one hand slip to hers and cover them, wondering if it helped at all, if it meant anything at all. The contact was brief, and he let go quickly to return to his handlebars. Her grip tightened, and he wished harder than he ever had that he had ignored Glenn's calls for just five more minutes. That they had gotten the night in the bed in the perfect house. That they had just one more night of surreal happiness before zombies came back and reality invaded.

Fuck.


	12. War

**Chapter 12: War**

A/N: So I'm trying to update quick since my updates have been sporadic recently, and though this is a shorter chapter, I should have the next up soon and it's gonna be sooooo fluffy! I really want to finish this story up, because I am in love with all the amazing fics in the walking dead category, and I have some more ideas to push out! Your reviews are amazing though, and I hope I have done justice to your guys' faith in me :) I love every single comment this story receives! So thank you, and here is another chapter!

**I also realized I've never done a disclaimer! Whoops. I don't own the incredible Walking Dead series or the characters!**

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><p>They had been driving for a while, past the highway and headed East. They didn't really know where to go, but with Rick leading they were content to follow for now. It was the middle of the night, black as pitch and probably just as deadly. No one wanted to get out in the dark, but they couldn't keep driving, especially without having a group meeting. The thought had occurred to Rick, it was obvious by the way he would slow whenever he thought he had found a good spot to pull over, but a stray walker in a ditch would make him change his mind every time.<p>

Eventually, they found an overpass; fairly deserted and no cars piled on the bridge part, only a few on the road traveling underneath. Safe as they would get in the dark. Rick pulled to the side, and Glenn pulled his car up beside them, creating a space in the middle where the group could meet. Merle and Shane had their trucks pull over to let the RV huddle in the center. They killed their engines and their lights, and Dale's RV was the only source of light in the night.

Daryl kicked his stand up and let Carol untangle herself from the bike before he attempted to get off. When he did he found her watching him, eyes red rimmed. She was holding his tent, and the few blankets and belongings he had brought with him to the farm.

"You risked your ass for that?" He muttered angrily. She stuck her chin out, and her lip trembled a bit. He felt bad for being harsh with her, but she had worried him!

"Yes." She cleared her throat. "And it was worth it. Where do you propose we sleep without a tent?"

"Smart ass." He growled. Slowly he reached to her arms, where she had a small leather bag she had found just inside his tent. He lifted it and opened the flap, checking inside to find the book, cloth bundle, and wallet he had carried since the beginning of all this mess. He shut it with a snap and cleared his own throat. "Thank you."

Carol's eyes widened minutely, showing her surprise that he had thanked her, and he knew that she was curious beyond belief as to what she had salvaged that had made him so grateful. Now was not the time though, and he set the bag and the tent beside his bike.

"We gotta put it in the RV, or the truck." he told her softly.

She sighed, "Daryl. Jimmy's dead."

He straightened and met her eyes. So she had been crying for his loss as well? Beth was going to be destroyed, she just wasn't meant for the death surrounding them.

"Damn." He said, "In the camp? When he was gettin' our shit?" Anger coursed through his veins at that fact; it wasn't fair, his life had been snuffed out in a brutal way, and for what? Some goddamn tents, and some food? It hadn't even been his supplies!

Carol nodded. "He was protecting Herschel and Beth."

"He died good then. Saved what he loved." Their march towards the others was sombre, and everyone else seemed to be in much the same mood, whether they knew of Jimmy's demise or not.

Rick pressed his hand to his heart before he spoke; whether he needed the strength, or perhaps just wished it would stop breaking, Daryl didn't know.

"Jimmy died in that mess." Rick drawled softly, and Beth's renewed sobs were shushed by Herschel's shoulder quickly. "He deserved more, and it was a shame it happened. We gotta be more careful, we have to be prepared for every eventuality. The worse case scenario, always. That farm was a piece of heaven, in an otherwise hellish world, and we got too comfortable."

"Right, and we need to survive." Shane barked. "We get tough, or we die."

Rick silenced him with a glare, much more sensitive to Beth and Carl than Shane could ever be. "Shane is right though, we all need to train to survive, and we need to get used to being on watch again."

"Can we stay here tonight?" Dale's voice was weary, and it was obvious that everyone needed the rest.

Rick nodded. "We have to be careful to watch both sides, but we should be okay here if we're quiet. We're in the open though, so we all need to be ready to go at a moments notice. Sleep in your cars if you can, or the RV."

"I can take first watch, I'm not tired. Frees up a bed in the RV too. Herschel and Beth can go in there, and Dale obviously."

Dale shrugged, "The front seat works for me, it's a bench across. Herschel and Beth could have the bunks. Andrea?" He turned to the blond, offering the last bed to her, even though he knew she wouldn't take it. She smiled kindly at him but shook her head.

"No, it's okay, I'll bunk with Shane. Carol and Daryl can't sleep on the bike."

Dale nodded at her words, worry springing to his eyes. He stayed silent though, and Daryl wondered if he had accepted her choice to bed down with the hot tempered cop, or if he was just too tired to try anymore. He feared it was the latter.

"I'll take second shift, T Dog." Daryl said. Merle scoffed, and Daryl shot him a glare that would have had lesser men pissing their pants, but he just rolled his eyes at him.

"Thanks, Daryl. I'll take last, just wake me." Rick said. After those words there was nothing more to say, and Rick led Lori and Carl away, clambering into the car that would be way too cramped to get any real rest. Merle stomped off to the truck that had a comfortable seat, and Daryl cursed that he had finally gotten what he wanted -to keep the bike- and it would have been better if he had gotten the goddamn truck in the end. Figured.

Glenn and Maggie were already in their car, and Daryl headed back to his bike to grab the tent and bag that Carol had risked her life for. She followed him silently, probably unsure as to what he wanted, or what he was thinking. Alone together was a hell of a lot different when you weren't actually alone, and instead sleeping in a back room of a cramped RV.

He turned to her and met her worried eyes, and he thought perhaps that she had aged a decade in an hour. Stress was making her forehead wrinkle, and the frown she was wearing was full of sadness and fear. He hated it, hated that anything but the smile she had worn in his presence so short a time ago dared to grace her face. Despite this, despite her weariness, and her fear and stress: she was so goddamned beautiful.

And she was his.

He tucked the tent and bag under his arm and set one palm on her back, guiding her to the RV.

"Come on, might as well sleep." He muttered. Daryl's eyes sought out Merle's truck, watching for signs of life. He was sitting behind the wheel, and despite the darkness Daryl knew that he was watching them. Goosebumps sprung up on his skin, and he shook off his fear. He was just being a pussy, that's what it was. It wasn't the fact that he could practically feel Merle's every malevolent thought from here, and the fact that Carol was at the fucking epicenter of the storm.

Daryl snarled at the truck, knowing full well the light of the RV was enough to let Merle see him. He wanted a war? Wanted to prove his baby brother was a piece of shit, and that Carol was nothing? Well he goddamn well had it.


	13. Pasts

**Chapter 13: Pasts**

A/N: Enjoy another chapter, the next one should be up this week! Love the reviews, you're all so nice and wonderful! I adore all the walking dead fics around, I reviewed a few the other day, cause I normally read on my fanfiction app and you can't review on there :( But here we go, new chapter; it's one of my favorites simply because of Carol's rant about what she wants :) Review!

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><p>He shut the RV door harder than he meant to, and Carol jumped, surprised at the noise. Beth was crying, trying to be quiet, but it was hard to cover racking sobs when the RV wasn't big enough to hold any secrets. Carol shoved their tent into one of the storage cupboards for a later date, and went into the tiny room at the back of the RV. It was the only space that had even a modicum of privacy, with a solid door. Dale only had a curtain to separate his space from Herschel's and Beth's. It had been kind to give it to them.<p>

Carol pulled the blankets back, and removed her shoes and sweater. She obviously longed to sleep in pajamas, or at least just her shirt and underwear, but getting dressed in a rush had made them all wary of being unprepared. The time it took to throw on jeans could kill someone.

She shrugged and looked up at him, hovering by the door. He had slid his boots off, but he was just watching her. He was still holding the leather bag.

"You going to tell me what's in that?" Carol asked.

Daryl let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and sat down beside her. His hands were dirty, and he felt bad for being near her with such grime under his fingernails. It would only get worse before it got better though, so he ignored it.

"The only things worth keepin' from... before. Y'know?" He said softly. He brushed the soft leather. "We all have somethin', just most people don't notice is all."

"But you notice?" Her voice was incredibly gentle, and tension went out of Daryl at her tone.

"'Course. Rick's got his weddin' ring, he spins it. Lori keeps somethin' in her pocket, jewelry I think, or maybe a photo. I ain't never seen it, but she's always feelin' to see if it's still there."

Carol smiled at her feet, bare in the darkness and getting cold. "You think we all have stuff? That we keep?"

"Yep."

"What's mine?"

"Necklace. Or your bag. But you touch the necklace more." He muttered, "When you're nervous, or 'specially when you're worried."

"I suppose. I got it from my mother. It's the only jewelry I was allowed to wear. Other than a ring." She changed subjects quickly, "T Dog?"

"He took me a while. But I figured it out, soon 'nough. He's got himself a tattoo, on his chest. He rubs at it, when he's decidin' somethin'."

She glanced at him. "So what's yours?"

Daryl opened the bag. "The bag was from Merle. Probably surprisin', hearin' that. He hunted this buck, it was huge, real nice. He cured all this hide to make leather, all his own. He gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. This, a hell of a lot of drugs, and a night I ain't ever gonna remember, and probably don't wanna."

Carol reached out and stroked the leather. "It's incredible. He's very talented."

Daryl nodded, "He could be, if he'd get himself together. Always was good at all sorts a shit. Used to draw, and make shit. Real smart in school, till he dropped out."

"Why'd he drop out?" Carol asked, honest curiosity in her voice.

Daryl shrugged, "Juvie, takin' care of me, and tryin' to kill and save our old man at the same fuckin' time. I owe him my life, y'know? He's an asshole, but he taught me this shit. Huntin', trackin', all of it."

He went silent, thinking back on it. Merle had been bad, and he had been good. It was the reason Daryl could never truly hate him, even as much as he wanted to. Sometimes, Merle had been the father Daryl had never had, and the brother he had always wanted. It faded, of course, with drugs and punches, and vicious words. But he would come back, sometimes, and show Daryl just what he couldn't destroy.

He pulled out the wallet first, because it was the easiest one. Flipped it open, flashing some cards, a drivers license. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Your wallet?" Carol chuckled, "You know you can't buy anything anymore, right?"

He scowled, "I damn well know that. It's got my key in it. For my safety deposit box. I ain't never had one before, and when my old man died, he left us some money and shit, so I got one and put all this stuff in it. I didn't know what else to do with it, I ain't never had money or material shit. So I'm keepin' the key, cause one day I could go get that."

Carol smiled, "That's a good idea. I never really had anything of my own, Ed kept all of our finances and everything. I doubt we had much for savings though, so it's good in a way that I don't need money anymore."

Daryl shrugged, "Well, you got money now. You're the only one who knows 'bout this key, so it's yours, if... well-"

"Don't you dare say it." She warned. "I will never need that key, cause the only time I'll ever see your safety deposit box is if you take me there yourself, Daryl."

Her voice was wintry, and he could sense the air of despair behind it. He didn't want to her to think about him not being their either, because he had a feeling that with them becoming a pair they had tied themselves together in more ways than just protector and protected. If he died, she wouldn't stand a chance, and she probably wouldn't even want to.

And if she died, well hell. That didn't bear thinking on, because it would mean one goddamn angry Dixon. It was both or neither now.

"Then I'll take you there. There's shit in there you'd like, but I don't know what to do with. Jewelry, and stocks and stuff."

She cocked her head. "I'm going to be really nosy here, but stocks? Daryl, your dad didn't seem the type to... you know, collect stocks? Invest? Think ahead?"

He sighed, "Well, he was an asshole. Real bastard of a man, but real concerned with money and shit. Ain't ever gave Merle or me nothin', but he was a good saver. Everythin' he touched turned to gold, or that's what the folks in town used to say. I got lots of money now, now that he's dead and money means jack all."

She laughed, "That's terrible! Finally get rich, and then can't do anything! Oh, that is ironic. What would you have done, with the money?"

Daryl glanced at her. "Merle and I talk 'bout that sometimes, when there ain't nothin' else to talk 'bout. I'd get a house, and a dog. New bike. After all this travellin, it'd be good to have a bed. What'd you get?"

"With your money?" She rolled her eyes at his nod. "Well, the house, and the dog, and-"

He interrupted. "Naw, that's what _I'm _gettin'. You can get your own shit. Y'know, not like with Ed. You get what you wanna get."

Carol's eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away before he could panic at saying the wrong thing. Her hand went to her necklace, teasing it from it's chain, just as he had said she did when she was nervous. Or overcome, she guessed. It's not like she had expected Daryl to control the money, like Ed had. She had just never thought of it. It wasn't like they were married, and he wouldn't let her go to church, or the grocery store, or have her own savings account, or even read a book. That had been Ed. But Daryl wouldn't have ever been able to show her he'd do things differently in this reality, where church and groceries and banks didn't exist, but his words alone proved it.

She cleared her throat. "For me? I, um, don't know. I think I'd get new clothes. Lots of them, with scarves and tight jeans and high heels and a leather jacket. I'd grow my hair out. I'd buy a closet, the type of closet girls dream about, with shelves and hangers and drawers. I'd buy a dress." She closed her eyes, a single tear falling onto her clasped hands. "A purple one. Short. I'd have a real wedding dress too, y'know, the kind that are stupid expensive but just so stunning; look like a princess, be the most beautiful person in the entire world. Keep the dress, even though I'd never wear it again ever, and then I could pass it on, you know, not to Sophia-" she choked up, swallowing hard at the mention of her daughter.

Carol coughed and wiped her eyes. "Stupid hey?" She glanced at Daryl to see him watching her, a million emotions mixed in his eyes. He didn't answer for an eternal moment, and Carol wished she could take it all back, her rant about clothes and closets and weddings. Everything she had said was literally the worst possible case scenario slip up of new relationships, and that was without adding Daryl Dixon to that equation.

"I wish you'd a hit him harder." Daryl whispered.

Carol choked out a laugh, "What?"

"Ed." He clarified. "I wish you had hit him so hard he ain't never been born. Or y'know, he was alive and we could just hit him again, and again."

"I wish that too, sometimes." Carol confessed.

Daryl offered her a half hearted smile. It was sad, and more of a grimace, but it was honest and Carol loved it. "It ain't stupid. What you wanted. I don't know why you wanted it," he frowned, "and I don't think I ain't ever s'posed to figure that girl shit out anyway, but it ain't stupid."

"I wanted it cause I never had it. Wasn't allowed that stuff. Couldn't have long hair, or cute clothes." She said softly.

Daryl's fist clenched. "You're hair'll grow now. And you can wear whatever you want. Well, dresses ain't exactly practical, but you can have one."

"I know." She whispered. "And that's even better than actually having them."

Daryl pulled another item out of his bag, a white crochet cloth. He opened it gently to reveal a ring; plain, small, delicate, most likely white gold. It had a small chain attached to it, and Daryl gently set a single finger on it.

"My mom's weddin' ring. It's all I got from her, and I don't wanna get rid of it, even if it's just some stupid jewelry." He confessed.

"Keep it, it's not stupid. It's something wonderful to have in this hell." She said softly. He nodded decisively and wrapped it back up, setting it inside the bag with his wallet. The last item was a black leather book, nothing on the cover of the spine.

"This is the best part," he told her softly, "it was my grandfather's. He was a hunter, didn't believe in no modern age technology shit. Everythin' he ever learned is written in here. He's got all the plants; medicines they make. Animals: how to cure leather, make fats, oils, candles, soap, waterproof containers. Everythin', all of it. This book is how to survive."

Carol set a hand on it, incredulous and suddenly lightheaded. "What if it had been left behind!"

He put it back in the bag and set everything on the ground. "It's also got my grandfather's journals in it. He was a good man, or as good as it got 'round my house. Lot's of memories. With my mom, and me and Merle as kids."

It meant a lot to him, and Carol understood that's what he was trying to say with his roundabout speech. She had saved it, and it meant a lot to him, and to their survival. He turned to her then, and swallowed. He was nervous, and even if she wasn't as observant as he was, that seemed as plain as day to her.

"I wouldn't have saved it." He muttered, "And I'm glad to have it."

She set a hand on his chest; gentle, so as not to spook him off. Daryl was nothing if not volatile with his attentions. He wanted her adoration, wanted her affection and physical touch, but sometimes he just couldn't handle it, and that's when he blew up on her.

He was shaking, and she pretended to ignore it because he would get angry if she drew attention to it. His hand reached for hers on his chest, and she fisted the material of his shirt to pull him into the bed with her. He pulled the blanket over each of them, watching her in the darkness.

"It ain't exactly our own room at the farm." he scowled.

She smiled, "We're both here." The reminder was bittersweet, because it showed them how lucky they were, while reminding them that Beth was crying herself to sleep because Jimmy would never lie across from her like this again.

The thought made Daryl reach his hand out to pull her into him, and her mouth settled into the crook of his neck, puffing warm breaths over his skin. Her body was impossibly warm and perfect against his, and Daryl wondered at how he had ever thought to decline this, to push this away.

"Merle's gonna go after this." Daryl told her, words lost in her short hair. He wished it was long, like she wanted it. He wished it was exactly how she had always dreamed, and he could run his hands through it gently, in a way Ed probably never would have ever thought was possible. He had used it as a weapon, a tool; the longer she kept it the easier it was for him to haul her back to the ground, ripping it out of her scalp. The thought made him bristle. Death was too good for him.

She stiffened in his arms, "After us? He won't hurt you!"

He shook his head, "Naw, and I ain't gonna let him hurt you. He'll do somethin' different. He knows to attack would bring the group down on him."

"What could he possibly do?" Carol asked, baffled. If he wasn't going to hurt them, then what the hell could he have up his sleeve?

He sighed. "I tried this once, y'know. High school, met this girl. Judy. She was nice, pretty girl. Had red hair." Daryl's voice was calm, too calm; he was obviously gauging her for a reaction, or perhaps trying to hide some sort of age old pain in his story. "I ain't... good with girls. Anyway, Judy was goin' with me, and I was... happy. Merle didn't like it, took his punches on me, and I told him to fuck off. Was gonna ignore him, first time ever, just pay attention to Judy."

"He hurt her?" Carol gasped, pulling back to stare at Daryl's face.

He scowled, "Not exactly. I found 'em, week later in my bed. Y'know. Together."

Daryl watched Carol's face go from horror, to sadness and pity, to a mixture of revulsion and anger. It was incredible to watch, and he was pleased to see how easily he could read all of her emotions in her eyes.

She snapped her mouth closed and took a deep breath. When her blue eyes met his again they were calm; faded denim, full of comfort and wisdom.

"First of all, I'm sorry," Carol's whisper was slow in coming, "I hate them both for that. But secondly, if that is the tactic he tries I might throw up."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes, "Daryl, Merle holds absolutely no appeal to me whatsoever, and he's an asshole. Been there, done that, and it wasn't exactly the dream life I wanted."

Daryl scowled at her, "Merle is good at this shit, he says all the right stuff and-"

"And so did Ed. Didn't change the fact that I smashed his face in with an axe." She was brutal in her simplicity. "I don't want Merle. I won't have Merle. And if he so much as comes near me with that intent I will probably laugh at him."

"That'd make him mad." Daryl muttered.

She nodded, "And probably embarrass him, which he'll deserve."

"Just -just don't go near him. 'Kay?"

Carol smiled, "I won't. And Daryl, I don't want Merle. I want _you_."

He leaned forward to kiss her then, and she wrapped her arms around him, letting her words be proven by her actions. After an eternity they broke apart, Carol panting and Daryl gritting his teeth against words that he didn't want to say yet.

"That damn tent was the best fuckin' idea you've ever had." He told her truthfully.

"I know," she laughed, "and I wish we had it tonight."

The temptation to flaunt the unspoken rule of 'no sex in the occupied RV' was cooled by the still audible sobs of Beth from outside the room. It wouldn't be just insensitive to take this further, it would be downright cruel.

However, it was starting to be downright cruel to them too.

Carol sighed, "We better be camping tomorrow."

Daryl grunted in agreement, and forced her to turn away from him. His chest surrounded her smaller form, an arm wrapped across her stomach.

"Woman, for the record, if you did have tight jeans, high heels, and a leather jacket, you'd probably kill me." He informed her, letting her small laugh lull him into a sleep, content in the knowledge she was safe in his arms and they were safe in their makeshift camp.


	14. Trust

**Chapter 14: Trust**

A/N: So, the rating is gonna change on this story, to Mature. It probably won't be intensely explicit, but the sex is gonna be there next chapter, so be prepared for that. Anyway, love all your guys' reviews, they make my day! I think there's two-three more chapters left? Enjoy this chapter, and get ready for the next one. Review!

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><p>The door made the smallest creak, and Daryl was instantly wide awake and ready to palm the knife he had left beside the bed. Carol was still sleeping, curled against his chest and breathing deeply. She hadn't had a single nightmare, which was impressive, and Daryl couldn't help but wonder if somehow he had helped her with this.<p>

"Daryl." The voice was almost silent, but Daryl's rigid spine relaxed as soon as he recognized T Dog's voice. "It's time for your watch. I can take it if you wanna keep sleeping."

Daryl edged his way out from Carol and pulled the blanket back over her frame. He grabbed his bow and shoved his feet into his boots, following T Dog out of the small room and shutting the door behind.

"See anythin'?" Daryl asked quietly, mindful of Herschel and Beth sleeping just beside him.

T Dog shook his head, "A couple of walkers down below, didn't notice us. So it's been quiet, thank God. We need the rest."

Daryl nodded somberly. "Where you sleepin', T?"

The huge man eyed him, amused at the easy way the nickname had fallen out of the hunter's mouth. He hadn't even noticed. Goddamn Carol was having a seriously good effect on this man, and as long as Merle didn't fuck it up, Daryl would probably Rick's second in command quickly.

"I was gonna crash on the floor, figured with Merle here you'd want someone watching out for her." He said, tossing a glance towards the little door where Carol had been hidden behind.

Daryl eyed him slowly, and then, a little unsure: "Thanks."

"Anytime, man. Wake Rick when it's his turn."

Daryl left the RV, comforted with the knowledge that Carol was completely safe. T Dog was a good guy, and Daryl appreciated his gesture more than he could ever say. He wasn't good with words, or even actions. But he had thanked him, and that was a hell of a lot more than most people got.

He scaled the ladder, crossbow at the ready when he took a seat on a lawn chair that had been set up there. It was still dark out, and Daryl was grateful that this would probably be a short shift. Rick would want to move with the dawn, and they had made this camp late, he wouldn't have to stay out here for long.

"Baby brother, enjoyin' your watch?" Merle's drawl was quiet, and Daryl tossed him an unconcerned glance. If Merle had come up here for a fight, he would have already been tossing insults. However, the way he spat the word 'watch', he might as well have called him a degrading name.

"S'alright." Daryl muttered. "What you want, Merle?"

Merle sat on the RV roof, near him, but far enough away that the dark masked his features. Strategic; Daryl had no idea what he was thinking or feeling without facial cues. Daryl may have been a redneck dropout, but he wasn't a fool when it came to people; knew how they worked, what made people tick. Always had pissed Merle off.

Merle sighed, "You don't know nothin' 'bout these people, Daryl."

"I know 'em well 'nough, Merle. I been livin' with 'em this whole time." Daryl replied.

"They gone and left me to die, and you ain't done nothin' 'bout that. Don't give a shit if you think they're all fine and dandy, we're goddamn blood boy, and you just up and left me." Merle snapped.

Daryl heaved his own sigh, "I looked for you, Merle. You went an' took our van, remember? You coulda waited 'round. I didn't have a choice."

"You looked for me, huh?" Merle's voice was deadly. "Don't give me that shit, Darlina, you're a fuckin' good tracker, and if you wanted to find me, you woulda."

Daryl snarled, "I tried! Ain't my fault you ran off the other direction."

"You tried?" Merle mocked him, "You looked for one goddamn day, then left. How long you look for _Carol's_ kid?" He said her name as if she was less than the dirt on his boots. Daryl's blood boiled, but he kept his calm. Barely.

"Her name was Sophia." he muttered, "And it ain't none of your goddamn business, Merle."

"It ain't my business! When my kid brother runs off with niggers and fuckin' sluts?" Merle's voice was still quiet, but it was outraged, teetering on violence.

Daryl shot to his feet and growled at him. "His name is fuckin' T Dog. And you see that you use it."

Merle chuckled at the deadly tone. "Darlina's gone and grown a pair of balls, well wouldn't ya know it. Too bad our old man ain't here to see it, always thought you a pussy. He'd be proud, y'know?"

Daryl was thrown off balance by that, shocked to hear Merle reference their father as anything other than a evil son of a bitch. 'Proud' hadn't been a word in his vocabulary. "What?"

"Y'know, bein' a man and shit. Jus' a matter of time before you start smackin' her 'round too."

Daryl didn't think, couldn't think at the words that ate at the biggest fear he had. He just wound back and let fly a wicked punch, knocking Merle onto his back. His fist hurt, but he didn't unclench it, didn't move his eyes from here his brother lay laughing at him. Merle leaned over and spat off the RV.

"Well, hell." he whispered cruelly, "Aren't we the fightin' sort recently. Damn, might have to warn that girl away from you."

"Fuck you." Daryl said, his voice cold.

Merle shrugged, "Bet she won't. Cause why the fuck would she want to? You're a Dixon, boy. That's all you ever been." He stood and pushed past Daryl to climb down the ladder, his stump hanging uselessly on the rungs.

Daryl didn't wake Rick up for watch, he just sat through, watching the stars blink out as the sun encroached upon the horizon. Goddamn him for it, too, because Daryl Dixon wasn't trying to be strong and help Rick out. He was being the pussy his brother had accused him of, and he was too fucking afraid to go down to Carol again.

In the end, it didn't matter. Activity was starting to happen, he could see Glenn and Maggie sitting awake in the car when the sun finally spilled into the sky. He could hear T Dog come out of the RV, stretching in preparation for another trip today. Daryl was still sitting on the roof though, and he would for as long as he was able.

She found him, sooner than he would have liked. Her head appeared from the ladder, blue eyes pleased to see him. She was carrying a cup of what looked like coffee, and Daryl wondered at how she could have possibly made it without the RV hooked up.

"Dale had a metal cup and I put it over a candle. Instant coffee, so it probably tastes like crap, but figured with double watch shift you'd want it." She murmured, setting the cup in his hand. It wasn't metal, and he realized she had thought to change the liquid over to a cooler cup so he wouldn't burn his fingers.

"Don't let the other's smell it, you'll be standin' over a candle all mornin'." He told her gruffly.

She squatted by his side, smiling at his words, "Just for you. So why the double watch?"

He shrugged. "Rick's tired."

Carol frowned, and something similar to frustration flashed in her eyes. "So are you, and you don't need to baby the others."

"I'm fine." He snapped. Something in his tone had her cocking her head to the side, confused at his annoyance.

She threaded her fingers together and watched him. "You okay?"

"I just told ya." Daryl drawled. "Fine."

Hurt flashed on her face at his rebuff and she stood again and set a hand on his shoulder. "Alright, I'll be helping pack up. We'll probably leave soon."

"Maybe you should ride in the RV." Daryl said, the words stinging his mouth. He regretted them as soon as he said it, but he didn't want to take them back. Couldn't, not when Merle was still haunting his head.

Her arms crossed over her stomach, hugging her. It was the only sign she was shaken. "If that's what you think it best." The words were delivered coolly, and she spun to grasp the ladder in both hands.

They were shaking, and that was the thing that undid Daryl. He looked down at his hot coffee, feeling like an asshole. Merle was a bastard, and just because he said things that resonated somewhere inside Daryl didn't mean they were true.

"Carol." he muttered, pausing her in her descent. "Thanks. For the coffee."

She nodded, a small smile gracing her face before she disappeared. Daryl felt stupid and useless all over again, and he marveled at the fact that he had officially apologized more in the past few hours than he had in the past few years.

Rick was the next one to appear, only about twenty minutes later. He looked rested, and Daryl was glad he had managed to make at least one person happy today.

"Thanks for taking my shift, man. I needed the sleep, and so did Lori. You gonna be okay to drive today, though?" Rick's concern leapt to the forefront, and with it so did Daryl's realization that Rick had come up here to ask about him and express gratitude. Merle had done so to sabotage and hurt.

He held his mug up. "Carol made me coffee."

Rick nodded slowly and came to squat beside him, adopting the same pose Carol had only recently. "I don't know what's going on with you two, but it's nice to see. She adores you, y'know? Don't let Merle screw around with a good thing. You're a good guy." He clapped him on the shoulder and ambled away, heaving himself down the ladder. "Oh, and Daryl." Rick peered up over the rim once more, "We're packed up and ready so we can go whenever you come on down.

Daryl nodded, left alone with his rapidly cooling coffee and his confusing thoughts. He drank the coffee in a gulp, letting it scald his throat. It wasn't nearly as bad as Carol had made it sound and he probably would need it to stay awake on the bike.

He found her washing up a few dishes in the RV, looking a bit despondent. She took the mug from him without a word, and he hovered near her, unsure of what to say to make it right again.

She dried her hands on a dishtowel and looked at him again. Her eyes were fiery and stubborn, and Daryl wondered if he had ever seen her look so determined.

"There's no place for me in the RV. It's either Merle's truck or your bike, and I'm sure hoping you pick the bike."

He was silent for a moment and then caught her wrist. It was tiny in his grip, delicate and pale. Daryl probably could snap it without a second thought, as he had once had his old man do to him. Accidental, in a fit of anger. Didn't have to mean it for it to hurt.

"Merle talked to me last night. While I was watchin'." His voice was low, and Daryl thought that perhaps that's what sad sounded like. Or maybe undone, overcome, brutalized. There were a thousand words and feelings for what his heart had done after Merle's words.

Carol's eyes located his, concerned now. "What did he say?"

The answer was slow to rise from the recesses of his throat, and when it did his voice was hoarse, as if it hadn't wanted to come out at all. "My old man hit women. Merle did too. Does, I guess. Kinda runs in the family, you could say."

Then she was there, invading his space again, and Daryl was grateful for the privacy the RV offered. She slid her arms around his torso, pressing herself to him. Her breasts were soft against his chest, and he could do nothing but wrap his own arms around her in the face of her kindness.

"No, Daryl, no. They may have done that, but you don't. You won't." Her voice was impossibly gentle, "It's not hereditary, I promise. That'd be like saying Sophia would be abusive when she got older, just cause Ed was."

"I ain't sure." Daryl muttered. "I ain't even sure of it, and you are. Woman, you confuse the hell outta me."

She looked up at him, "You would never hurt me. Never."

Daryl nodded, a little unsure, but amazed at her conviction in him. "I ain't wantin to, believe me."

Her hands slid to his chest, smoothing his shirt down in tenderness. "Was that all Merle said? That's what made you stay up there all night and tell me to ride in the RV?"

Daryl half shrugged. "I guess."

"Guess isn't good enough." She said sharply, "What else did he say? You know it's gonna drive you nuts until you ask me."

"He didn't really say it, just kinda implied, y'know..." Daryl muttered. "I mean, you didn't have to go for me... umm, and hell, well, Merle, he was sayin' that you- jesus. Fuck. I ain't exactly top prize." The words were snarled, and Daryl was practically ready to throw himself off the overpass they were parked on by the time he finished.

Carol almost smiled, hiding it away at the last second to soothe his embarrassment. She reached up and slid one hand behind his neck, waiting until his eyes met hers in silence. Then she kissed him, slow and thorough; the time would come for fast, but this was not it. This was a time when he needed to be comfortable, because men like Daryl Dixon didn't settle down easy.

She pulled away and set her hand on the front of his pants, flushing at her own actions. It was obvious he wanted her, and his pants did nothing to hide what his body so quickly betrayed. He gasped at her touch though, hands flying to her waist. His pupils expanded so harshly they ate up nearly all the blue in his eyes, and Carol found that hot as hell.

If they didn't have their goddamn tent tonight, she would kill Rick herself.

"I want you." She said, her voice low and husky and filled with an arousal no man could mistake. "I've told you that before. It's still true, and I will prove it."

He pulled her into him, and then it was Daryl, and her, and the time for fast was now, now, _now_! Carol easily let herself be lifted by his hands, settling her legs around his waist, his body lining up with hers in a way that was so wondrous and sinful she felt evil. Daryl had moved from her mouth, trailing kisses down her chin to her neck.

"We need to go," he muttered in the crook of her neck. He hadn't set her down yet, and Carol wouldn't have been surprised if he planned on keeping her locked around him. Despite his words, his every action and reaction were saying the opposite thing.

She pulled back and faced him, smiling at his puffy lips. "We do need to go, but if we stop I definitely plan on scouting the area with you."

A laugh rumbled from his chest but he shook his head, "No. Forest floor ain't good 'nough for you."

He let her down, unwillingly, sliding every inch of her body against his before setting her feet on the floor; beautiful torture, feeling him so close and not having him.

"Merle's wrong." She said again, just in case he hadn't understood her before. "He's a dumbass."

Daryl nodded, intensity bleeding out of every pore. "Yeah. You comin' on the bike?"

She grinned, "Of course, someone's gotta keep you awake, and I think, being the one pressed up against you with free hands and all, I might just be up to the task."

Daryl groaned, "Woman, you're gonna kill me."

"Just don't crash." She murmured silkily, "I trust you."

And wasn't that the biggest fucking miracle of them all. Trust. Holy hell.


	15. Blessing

Chapter 15: Blessing

A/N: Sorry about the long update time! All I can say is: Finals! Yuck, university! But alas, I'm almost done, and there should be two more chapters then it's all over! And updates should be quicker, cause I'll be done. This chapter is SO long, it was originally supposed to be two chapters, but I couldn't leave you all hanging for some Caryl action ;) Review!

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><p>There is a moment that everyone has at some point in their lives, and it's different for everyone. It's a moment where everything is perfect, and happy and so fucking beautiful that it's like a slice of heaven before the idea of death has even been put on the map. For Lori it was probably the moment when Rick walked back into her life, and everything that she had thought she had lost had come straight back into her arms. Or perhaps that was Rick's moment. Lori's might have been her wedding day, Rick in a suit looking at her with the softest most adoring eyes she had ever known.<p>

Carol's was definitely when Sophia had been born, and she had latched onto her finger and stared up at her. In that moment, nothing else had mattered; not Ed, or the pain of birth, or the fact that she could never have kids again. It didn't matter, it couldn't matter, because there was nothing more important than the tiny being in her arms.

Carol still teared up thinking about that moment. And so when the gates seemed to appear out of nowhere from the tree line, Carol knew exactly what it was: a blessing.

"Daryl, stop here." He had pulled ahead in their entourage, and he easily came to a halt, flagging Rick down as he did so. The bike's engine died quickly under Daryl's hands, and Carol swung herself off the bike, staring at the tall black wrought iron gates.

Rick left his car idling and got out, approaching her.

"What is it Carol?"

She indicated to the hidden driveway, "Rick, these gates might go all the way around the property. If there's a house up there it'd be an incredible find. We are miles from anywhere, and this is defensible, hidden."

He rubbed his chin, thinking. The place could be crawling with walkers, and without seeing the house they wouldn't be able to tell from afar. Still, Rick would see reason, he needed something like this.

Hell, they all needed it.

Rick glanced over her shoulder, and Carol turned to see him watching Daryl. She barely contained her grin at watching their unofficial leader asking Daryl's opinion.

"Carol's right." Daryl said, making her heart flutter, "We gotta take a chance. We need this, Rick."

Rick nodded decisively. "Stay in the cars, if there are a lot of walkers we get out fast. We can clear it out in trips if we need to."

Daryl swung his leg over his bike without comment, ready to follow Rick's lead.

Rick turned back to where a group of drivers had gathered, waiting for his command.

"We're going to check this place out, see if we can make it livable. Follow us up, guns out and ready. Take out walkers, but if it's overrun spin around and get out." Rick commanded, hopping back in his car with a frightened Lori.

"Get on." Daryl's voice brought her back to reality, and Carol hopped on the back of his bike quickly. He handed her a gun, from his waistband.

"Shoot 'em if they get close. Don't fall off, or I'mma kill ya myself." He muttered, "Safety's here, aim for their head, but legs'll slow 'em up."

Carol accepted the gun with shaking hands and slung one arm around his waist. Their bodies were coiled tight with tension, so damn different from the ease and affection they had radiated earlier.

The bike rumbled to life and Daryl took off after Rick's car, the paved driveway making it easy to drive. Herschel's farm had been a bitch to navigate on gravel, but Daryl would have been damned before he complained about a couple of rocks.

The driveway wasn't terribly long, paved all the way up and curved like an 'S'. It climbed in height, finally reaching a house at the peak of a hill. The house was magnificent, all dark cedar wood and tall windows.

Three shots rang out, startling Carol and making her tighten her hold on the gun. Lori had taken the wheel and Rick was leaning out a window, handgun at the ready. T Dog had his shotgun out, and Carol felt a surge of pride at how well they had survived and even thrived. They had losses, as she was sure every group of survivors probably did; but none of them were starving, and none of them were helpless. Carol glanced at the gun; well, perhaps her with the firearm. She needed a machete, or blade. Fencing as a teenager might have been uncool back then, but now it might just save her ass. If she could remember how to hold a weapon properly. Didn't really matter though, pointy end went in walker skull; simple enough?

Walkers came at them, and Daryl came to a halt, snatching the gun out of her hands. He took out three before she could blink, and she could hear shots being fired all around her in succession. It was reminiscent of the barn, and she cut the thought off before it could even form. She would not think of a different firing line, and a different group of walkers, and her beautiful, wonderful, dead, decaying daughter being shot in the head.

Carol thrust the thought away from her, and the world went silent again. Her ears were ringing from being so close to so much noise. Daryl's hand landed on her shoulder, startling her.

"It's clear." He muttered. "More woulda come after tha' noise."

Rick shut off his car, pulling close to the house. Everyone followed suit, and eventually they were all gathered near the front of the house, bearing weapons and nervous grins.

"We go through the whole house, clear it out. We need to make sure there's a few exits, enough rooms. See if it has it's well like Herschel's did. It's possible, this is a big acreage, and far enough out." Rick's voice was clear as he handed out orders.

"It's got a sewage mound." Herschel told him, "Should have it's own well, too."

T Dog stepped forward, "Lot's of windows, Rick. There must be a break in the fence too, for those walkers to get in."

The bodies were strewn over the pavement, perhaps twenty in total. Rick eyed them with distaste.

"House first, property after. As soon as it's all cleared up we'll drag the bodies away and burn them up while the women settle in."

Daryl tucked the gun into his pants, snatching his crossbow from where he had stowed it on his bike. He checked it over, running his hands so gently over it Carol was feeling simultaneously warm and slightly jealous. The way he stared at that thing, like it was made of pure gold, it was obvious he loved it more than anything else he owned, except for perhaps the bag of items she had managed to save.

"The hill's good for watchin' and the road could be fortified." Daryl's voice was contemplative. "If this place got water then we gotta stay. Can't pass shit like this up, this is heaven."

He threw a glance at her, almost a smile, his lips quirked up; there was something in his eyes, something she had never really seen from him before. Carol had experienced Daryl staring at her with anger, lust, happiness, even sadness, but she had never seen him so proud.

Of her.

She beamed, glancing around the property. It _was_ incredible, up on a hill, fenced in, and possibly having it's own water system. Not to mention the obvious perk of a stunning house with lots of space, it was a nice place to settle. They could have gardens, even animals. Herschel was good with farming, he would know what they could or couldn't do.

They might stay here, live here, hell, they could survive here, and it was all thanks to Carol.

"Alright, weapons out." Rick said, "Follow me, be careful."

Daryl handed her back the gun, holding his crossbow assuredly. "We need to teach ya some shit abou' this."

She shrugged, "I hate guns. I want a blade."

He eyed her strangely, but he didn't say a word as they entered the house. His curiosity could wait.

The house was huge, but fairly walled in, which was a benefit if they needed to barricade in an emergency. There were three bedrooms -two walkers- on the top floor, and two bedrooms on the main floor with a living room -six walkers, some half decayed- and a kitchen. The basement was the real find though: four bedrooms, living room, bar, no walkers, and an incredible cold storage room stocked with food.

"This place is awesome." Carl's voice was shocked from the back of the group. He and Lori had hung back, surrounded by formidable warriors in case of emergency.

Rick smiled, the first in a long time. "It is that, Carl, it has everything we need."

"Gotta board the main floor's windows." T Dog muttered, "Top floor's fine, we can use that for watch. But the main floor windows gotta go, same with down here if they're big enough to fit through."

Carol walked to the bathroom sink, taking a deep breath. "Here's the true test." She said softly. She wrenched the tap up, and after one horrifically disappointing moment a loud groan preceded beautiful water. Carol ran her fingers through it and laughed joyously.

"There's water!" Her voice was loud, but welcome in the silent house. In the safe house.

Rick whooped, and Glenn followed suit, hugging Maggie tightly to him in his excitement. Andrea hugged Carol, squeezing her in happiness. Carol was surprised but pleased, hugged her back just as tightly. Daryl was watching her, eyes pleased. It was remarkable how easily she could tell his moods, from his stance, or his words, or his eyes.

"Alright; Daryl, Shane, Merle, T Dog and I are going to go walk the property. Herschel you come too, but I want you to see what we could do with this place, farm or have animals or something. Glenn, Dale, I need you guys to board the main floor windows up, Andrea or Carol could help you. Maggie, Beth, Lori, you two set up the bedrooms, you can assign who gets what; new sheets, clean it a bit. Lori, don't go too hard, the baby." Rick was already walking up the stairs as he sent out his orders, stress once more lining his face. The apocalypse didn't agree with Rick, he always looked older and distraught when he should have been young and handsome.

"And me, Dad?" Carl's voice rang out.

"Board the windows with Glenn." He replied quickly. Carl's face fell, but with one look from Rick he didn't say a word.

"Where are we going to get the wood?" Glenn asked.

Dale shrugged, "Use stuff in here, I'm sure there will be two by fours in the shed, or garage."

Daryl lifted his crossbow, "Bring your gun, we didn' check the garage."

Merle scoffed, "I ain't here to help you people."

Daryl scowled, "Then don', but don' ya expect shit from us."

It was the moment he said 'us' that Merle's expression went from superior to surprised, and he didn't say a word in retort. Daryl had chosen, Daryl had picked, and Merle had lost. His silence wouldn't last long, but it was a victorious moment as it was.

Everyone dispersed within minutes, Glenn bringing chunks of wood to the centre of the main floor where Carol and Andrea would nail them in. It took time, and Carol was dripping sweat by the end of it, but she was still glad that she had been given a moderately hard task, instead of just making beds. For the first time she was being considered stronger than Lori or Maggie, and it was a nice change.

"Hey, Carol, you and Daryl going to share?" Lori's voice was quiet from beside her. She was holding sheets and pillows.

Carol appreciated her attempt at privacy, despite the fact that pretty much everyone already had their noses stuck into her and Daryl's business.

"Yeah, probably." Carol responded softly.

"You want a main floor room?" Lori asked, "Might be best if he gets up early for huntin'."

Carol smiled at the woman. Lori could be cold or irrational sometimes, but she wasn't heartless and she did think of others more often than she was given credit for. "Yeah, that'd be nice thanks."

Lori nodded, heading off once more.

By the time the men got back from searching the property all the bedrooms were made up, and most of the windows were barricaded. They all made short work of the rest of them, and T Dog and Glenn dragged all of their items into the house to be unpacked. Lori started dinner with Maggie, consisting of some squirrels Daryl had shot on his walk, a few things they had left from the farm and one of the cans they took from the storage room.

It was dark by the time everything was sorted, and the house was getting cold. There wasn't any heat, but there was a fireplace they could have lit if they had brought in firewood. It was nowhere near cold enough for that though, and as soon as they were in bed it would be warm under the blankets.

Dinner was a rowdy affair, complete with a two bottles of red wine that was shared. Everyone was dirty, exhausted and still in mourning, but they were happy about the day's find. Happy to be alive, and safe, and able to sleep in a bed instead of a car.

"Tomorrow we burn the walkers." Rick said in a particularly quiet and sombre moment.

"I found a good plot for vegetables, if anyone wants to help till the soil." Herschel added.

"We found the break in the fence too, have to repair that tomorrow." T Dog said.

Andrea laughed, "I'm positive we'll be busy, but tonight we can eat and have a good night's rest for once."

"Should we still keep watch?" Lori asked almost hesitantly, as if she didn't want to put the idea out there but felt she had to.

Daryl nodded, "Yeah, we gotta. There's a place upstairs, can sit in the chair and see the whole driveway, an' the back."

"I'll take first." Dale offered.

Glenn grinned, "Second's good by me."

"Third." Shane and Daryl echoed each other, glaring briefly. It was no secret the two men did not get along, but everyone was eager not to start another argument so soon after their happiness.

"Daryl you took two watches last night, you're dead on your feet. Shane or myself will take the watch." Rick decided.

Daryl rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Laughter resumed, and although Beth was silent for most of the meal Carol noticed she did smile at something Maggie or Herschel had mentioned, and it was an uplifting thing to see. Beth would be okay if they could only recoup and survive here for a little bit. Just enough time to mourn her losses.

Dinner was over too quickly, and then Lori was being escorted to bed by Rick, who was concerned about the stress that had been put on her. Herschel took Beth to the basement, where their rooms were beside one another in case she needed him. Carl eventually succumbed to his exhaustion and followed his parents upstairs, to where he had his own room for the first time since he'd been shot.

Carol cleared the table quickly, ready to slide into clean sheets. She planned on bathing first though, excited to be clean. Lori had managed to sneak one in before dinner, and she had said that despite the coolness of the water it had been a slice of heaven.

She had been right, and Carol decided that she had never been as happy as she was after her bath. Clean, safe, and sharing a room with Daryl Dixon. In a million years she would never have guessed that anything like this could ever happen; that she could be so happy or safe, or have so little terror in her life. It took the end of the world and a goddamned zombie apocalypse for her to stop being afraid. There was no Ed, no bruises, and even though losing Sophia had been the hardest thing she had ever had to go through, at least she never had to fear for her again.

The only things that frightened her now were losing Daryl, or turning into one of the undead herself.

The door opening frightened her, and she clutched her robe closer to herself as she spun on her toes. For a split second she was afraid Merle was standing in her doorway, but her eyes met light blue and in an instant she was calmed. Daryl, of course, of course it was Daryl.

"Sorry, din't mean to frighten ya." He muttered. "Ya look clean." His face flushed as if he had realized that his sentence sounded rude, and he glanced to his feet.

Carol smiled, "I feel clean, the bath was amazing."

He was hovering in the doorway, unsure of what to do with himself. He was so adorable there, like a kid lost in a mall, and Carol thought her heart might have been bursting. She didn't know what to say in that moment, didn't know how to welcome him in a way that wouldn't have him running for the exit.

"Lori din't tell me which room was mine." He said, softly.

Carol blushed, "I said we were sharing."

The smile he gave her was unsure, and a little shaky, but it was real, and there was no evidence of any sarcasm or mocking like their usually was. A real smile, just for her.

He raised his eyes from his shoes to her face, and they abruptly shared the same sort of look that Maggie and Glenn gave each other, the type of thing they saw Rick and Lori do. The same communication that was just so innate to two people who knew each other, inside and out. Carol's expression showed him everything he needed to hear, to see, or to know: _it's not just you or I anymore, it's us; because we're a pair, a family and that's all that's left in this godforsaken universe. I thought I lost everything with Sophia, but I didn't, because just when I thought I had nothing, you came along; and now I have you and you are goddamned everything to me now, so don't you dare leave me, don't you dare walk away, because I never will._

Daryl just nodded, because what else was there to say? What else was there to do, when a room and such fear separated them, and he had never been any good at words anyway? Still, their eyes held, and he thought perhaps that this silent communication extended both ways; once they finally took the plunge and stepped towards each other, face to face, he wouldn't need to say a single thing, because Carol understood him, and she just knew everything he could ever be thinking and meaning.

_I'll never walk away, never leave, because you're my home, not this fucking acreage, not this graveyard of a world, or this group that has become our family. You are my home, you're mine, and I will not leave that behind._

She was stepping forwards, the bathrobe she had donned brushing against her thighs, making his palms sweat. She was so clean, and soft, and so fucking beautiful he could hardly stand it.

Daryl stepped inside and shut the door behind him, kicking off his shoes to the side. He set his crossbow down beside them, the same as his knife on his belt.

"We're sharing?" Her voice was incredibly soft, and Daryl thought she might have been treating him like an animal that could bolt at any second. She might have been right to do so, because he was torn between running like a pussy, or beating his chest in territorial pride. Animalistic instincts, both of them, running rampant through his all too human and emotional body.

"Ya, that's wha' ya said."

She nodded, and then with hands that shook -nerves? fear? excitement?- she reached for the tie that closed her robe together. In a swift movement, grace exuding from every fucking pore in her body, she shed the robe, letting it pool at her feet, baring her body before him.

"Well, shit." Daryl's whispered curse was met with hesitant laughter, and he thought it probably took every bit of strength and confidence in her body for her not to cover herself from his eyes. He nearly tripped in his efforts to scramble towards her, feeling like a green boy with his first naked woman. Hell, Daryl had seen naked women, he wasn't any sort of dumbass, or ignorant fool. He knew what a woman looked like without clothes on.

But he had never seen anyone like Carol, who didn't judge him for the fact that he had dirt under his nails from climbing the trees to retrieve their squirrel dinner, and who let him curse and growl even when she shared herself with him. He had never seen anything more beautiful than her soft body in the light through their barricaded window, or the dampness of her pale skin.

She was stunning; perhaps a bit too thin, starved with lack of food or surplus of grief, but incredible.

He shed his shirt, letting himself come near to her body. They stood near each other, feeling the heat, the fright and excitement.

Carol's hands came to rest on his hips, and he nearly jumped out of his skin at her touch. The buckle on his pants was undone within seconds, and she pulled them down, letting him stand in just his boxers.

She tugged at the waistband, "You have no idea how many times I've washed these and wished I could see you wearing just them." She looked up at him through spidery lashes, "Or better yet, seeing them on my bedroom floor."

He kissed her then, rough and demanding, slanting his mouth to get closer to her. There could never be enough, would never be enough, he needed everything, every goddamn thing this woman had to give.

Daryl pulled away to breath, resting his face in the crook of her neck. Her hands had wound around his back, and they were chest to chest. "You're gonna get sick o' pickin' up my underwear from your bedroom floor." He told her, his voice low and full of deadly promises.

Carol laughed breathlessly, her breasts pressing against his chest in such a way he went weak, "Our bedroom."

The words were enough to undo him, and she wasted no time in ridding him of his boxers, letting his erection spring forward against her. He picked her up, as he was so fond of doing, loving the way she so easily wrapped her legs around his hips and kissed her way down his neck.

He laid her on the bed, reverently and slowly, savoring every moment that her body clung to his. She pulled him down on her, ignoring the fact that he wanted so badly just to look at her for a moment.

They were face to face, chest to chest, and Daryl wondered if there had ever been a woman more perfect for him. He had always imagined himself with some sort of gun wielding, tattooed badass, who fought tooth and nail with him, and probably caused him just as much misery as his father had always promised a woman would. Or alone, which was his father's other favorite prediction.

Well, fuck him. He'd been wrong, and now he was lying with Carol, who was soft where he was hard, and friendly where he was mean, and so perfect where he was so damn fucked up.

"Hey," Carol's whisper brought him back down to earth, and she was smiling at him with what could only be described as absolute adoration on her face. "don't run away."

"I ain't." Daryl promised.

Carol smiled, "I love you."

He froze, absolutely froze, as soon as the words left her mouth. She let go of his hips, hands hovering above his skin, as if she knew without a doubt that in this moment she could not chain him, could not even appear to be holding him to her when he didn't want to be there.

"Wha'?" Daryl stared at her, unsure at the words.

She shrugged, her movement reminding him of all the delicious places he was pressed against. "You heard me, Daryl Dixon."

The silence was eternal, and terrifying for both Carol and Daryl but for incredibly different reasons. She struggled with three different ideas, debating on distracting with her body, or demanding he stay, or even just letting him walk out. Daryl was struggling with something completely different.

"No one's ever said that t'me before." He finally broke the silence, rolling to his back and pulling her with him. She let out a squeak at the quick change of position, and it slowly settled into a low groan as his fingers dug into her hips and she ground against him.

_Goddammit, focus, Carol. You can play later, woman. _Carol willed herself to calm down and take in Daryl's words, a massive feat when she was oh-so-delightfully placed on his body.

"Well, I'm saying it now." She told him. "And I mean it."

He stared at her with something akin to awe, and Carol realized that she had unwittingly sealed the deal with Daryl Dixon. All this time, and probably everyone had always thought that it would be the sex, the intimate, sweaty, down and dirty relationship that would hold him to her. But no, it had never been that, it had never been something that he had always been able to find and get for himself; to get Daryl Dixon to stay, all she had to do was love him.

She'd won him with kindness, and love.

He reached up and cupped her face, a determination coming into his eyes. "Say it again."

Carol smirked, "I love you, Daryl."

It was like goddamned magic, the way he suddenly reached up and pulled her to him, kissing her like it was his last night on earth -and who the hell knew, it could be, with zombies walking around. His mouth roamed down her jawline, kissing her neck and tugging her hips against him so hard she knew she would have bruises.

He turned them again, dominating every sense she had, his hands roaming her skin. A low guttural moan escaped him and his mouth toyed on one breast while his hand mirrored his actions on the others. Carol felt herself arching up, meeting every sensation he was causing within her. She scoured his back with her nails, gently as she could, not willing to cause another mark on his skin.

Seconds later he was within her, and they were crashing together in desperation and desire, his mouth finding hers. Her hands ran through his hair, and Daryl latched onto her ass, driving deeper into her.

The orgasm overtook her suddenly, the slow building culminating in a wave of pleasure that had her locking her ankles over Daryl's back; he joined her swiftly, the pull of her body a lure he couldn't ignore despite any efforts he made to the contrary.

He didn't collapse on top of her the way Ed would, he rolled over, pulling him with her, letting her rest on his chest. It was thoughtful, and sweet, and perfect, and something Carol was coming to expect from him.

His fingers brushed through her short hair, clumsy but adoring.

"Shoulda been usin' a condom." He muttered, too exhausted to be angry.

Carol shrugged her delicate shoulders, "I can't get pregnant, don't worry."

Daryl met her eyes, concern and curiosity showing. "Din't know that."

"Yeah, nearly died with Sophia." Carol told him. "Can't have anymore."

"Tha' make ya sad?" His voice was quiet.

She smiled at his concern, "Was never really given a chance to be sad about it, I guess. I wouldn't have brought another child into the world with Ed, and now the whole zombie apocalypse would make me hesitant."

"No' me?" Daryl's voice was teasing, but Carol was dead serious as she answered.

"Of course not." She smiled, "You're about the only reason I _am _sad I can't have anymore."

Daryl was silent for a few moments, then: "Holy shit."

Carol laughed, "Scaring you off yet?"

"I ain't scared!" He defended immediately, ignoring her question in favor of assuring his manliness.

She rested her hand of a nasty scar on his chest. Above his heart, like hers. "Of course not, you're never scared."

"That ain't true." Daryl muttered, "You scare me when y'all decide to do somethin' stupid and get yourselves killed."

She turned her head to kiss his chest where she was laying, "I shall endeavor to stop doing stupid things."

They lay in silence for a few minutes more, and Daryl decided that he liked the fact that she was willing to accept his silence instead of wanting to talk like every other goddamn woman in the world.

"I ain't any good at lovin' anyone." He finally said, breaking their comfortable silence.

She grinned, her eyes closed sleepily, "You're doing fine, sweetheart."

Daryl frowned,_ sweetheart? What the fuck?_ About the closest he had ever been to an endearment before had been Merle calling him Darlina, or a 'pussy lil' bitch' on special occasions.

Well, shit. Sweetheart beat those out by a long shot, but if Merle caught wind of it he'd never stop mocking him. _Darlina, sweetheart, should I rub your princess feet? Poor sweetie too afraid to go outside? Goddamn dad woulda been ashamed of you._

Fuck him. Fuck them all. His dad was dead and still haunting him, and Merle was nothing but a one handed sick sonofabitch that was now relying on the group that looked to Daryl for advice. He was better than them, and he was good, and he was happy, and for all he cared they could all rest in hell where they belonged.


	16. Home

**Chapter 16: Home**

A/N: I promised I'd update this last weekend and I lied! I'm so sorry, and my only excuse is that I wrote half of this chapter and lost it so I had to start again today :( Moral of the story: ALWAYS SAVE! There will be two more chapters after this one. The next one is the LAST CHAPTER - and it's ever so fluffy. Then there will be an epilogue :) Yay!

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><p>Daryl woke up wrapped around Carol for the third time, and it took a moment to register just how fucking wonderful it felt. He tugged Carol even closer to him, and she curled up into him willingly, her soft sleeping breath tickling his neck. Well shit, this was about as happy as he'd ever been, could ever be. The thought didn't exactly sit well with him, because usually when things went right for Daryl, they went wrong in a big ass way. Still, he pushed that aside and focused on the fact that they had found a place to stay, and Carol loved him, and she hadn't complained at all that he hadn't said it back -because really, he couldn't, didn't even know how.<p>

He debated on going out hunting; clear his head, get some dinner. He could repair the fence too, maybe help Rick drag bodies. Something to think about all this, because he'd never been given the luxury of being able to just stop and think before; nowadays, stopping and thinking got you killed, and back with Merle thinking would get you an ass kicking.

Merle. Fuck. Daryl hated that bastard, hated and loved him simultaneously, in the way that only family members could understand. Daryl hadn't realized how fucking _relieved_ he had been when Merle had gone missing, it had afforded him a break from taking care of Merle, and taking Merle's shit, without Merle actually being dead.

Well, Daryl had survived Merle's disappearance and 'likely-to-be-dead-status' once, and he could do it again if he had to. Whether that meant running him off, killing him, or goddamn changing him into some sort of normal human being in the group. Daryl would do it.

Despite his conviction, Daryl still felt a sort of bone deep fear that had only ever been present in him back when his father had still lived and breathed and tortured. He was terrified _-fucking coward-_ and it was entirely because he now had something to care about. Daryl had survived just fine on his own, hell, he had thrived! He was meant for a rough life, living in the woods and running; he hadn't known anything else. But now, Daryl knew about family, and working together, and leading people even when he didn't want to. Now Daryl had all sorts of shit he had to think about and care about before he could run off into the woods. There would be no more hunting trips where he disappeared without a word to anyone about his whereabouts.

Daryl managed to sneak away from Carol, tugging the blankets back onto her shoulders when she shivered, torn between re-joining her in the warm bed where her still-naked skin tempted him, or escaping to the trees.

In the end, he decided Carol would still be there when he got back, and this thought was so exciting and foreign to him he decided to test it out. He snatched his crossbow after tugging his clothes on, and slipped out the door. Carol didn't stir, and he was surprised at how heavily she was sleeping, usually she was awake at the slightest noise.

Daryl waved at the upstairs windows when he walked by, notifying either Shane or Rick, whoever was watching that day. The glare from the morning sunrise was too much for Daryl to see who was standing there, but he was confident that they had seen him. Even if they hadn't, his crossbow was with him, and anybody who knew him knew that the bow went where he did.

The woods around the acreage were silent, which wasn't promising. Daryl figured he'd have to go over the fence to find wildlife of a decent size, although there would definitely be rabbits and squirrels still on the country property within the fence limits. Daryl took down three as he looped around the fence, finding the break Rick had talked about. He made a couple of trips from the shed to the fence break, dragging scrap wood and nails and toolboxes back. Even if he went through and couldn't help with the actual repairs, the boys would be grateful all the supplies were already there.

He did one more loop around the property, and managed to get two more squirrels and a decent sized rabbit. Daryl decided that would be enough for the night, and he could go off the property to hunt the next day. The sun was already in the middle of the sky, and Daryl wanted to grab something for lunch and then help the fence repairs or dragging the walker bodies.

He marched back to the back of the house, finding a nice stump a fair distance away so he could clean his kills; no sense getting blood and gore that could draw walkers near the house. Daryl flipped his knife out with skill, slicing into the squirrels with a practiced hand. He didn't really need to clean his kills, one of the girls could have done it, they had all been taught.

Although, despite the fact that everyone had learned, the messy task always seemed to fall to either Carol or Maggie, the only two who could stomach all the gore. Daryl was better off doing it himself than hearing their complaining. Or, rather, Maggie's complaining; Carol never complained, no matter what anyone told her to do.

The back screen door slammed against the shingles, and Daryl froze midway through his skinning. A cold dread washed over him, even before Maggie's scream. He was up and sprinting to her without a second thought, and he realized that she was screaming his name, panicked and tearful.

He snatched her arm, probably rougher than he should have. "What the fuck!" Daryl yelled this in her face, mostly because there was nothing else he could properly say. There were a million words, a million thoughts he wanted to shout at her, but his tongue wasn't working and fear had made him illiterate.

"Carol." her whisper went through him like ice, although it didn't surprise him. "Merle has her, in the front."

Daryl nearly tossed Maggie on her ass brushing past her, clomping through the house, uncaring if his boots left dirt clumps. He bust through the front door, bow drawn and loaded and the gun he had hidden in his waistband itching to be used. Daryl had been goddamned ready for a war.

"Merle!" he shouted as soon as his feet hit the grass. His brother was standing next to the cars, sure as shit, and holding a wicked machete blade to Carol's throat. A thin line of blood was snaking down her collarbone, not enough for her to be badly hurt, but enough for Daryl's temper to snap. "You let her go, you fuckin' asshole."

Merle chuckled, not even phased by the fact that he was facing the entire group by himself; guns were trained on him from every angle, except behind, which was covered by the truck.

"You think yer tough, Darlina?" Merle's voice was mocking.

Daryl hissed, "I'm gonna kill ya."

"Yer bitch is tough though," Merle said thoughtfully, "I told 'er t'scream for ya. She said no."

Carol spat on the arm across her chest, her saliva landing on the stump where his hand had once been. Daryl could see bruises and scratches all over her, and he was simultaneously proud that she had fought so hard and furious that she was hurt. Merle's face had contorted in anger at her actions, and he butted his head into her temple, the resounding smack echoing in the open air.

Carol slumped, and the extra weight on Merle's arm made him bend just slightly. Daryl didn't think twice, dropping his precious crossbow to the ground and snatching his gun. He fired just once, straight into Merle's side. The scream Merle unleashed was inhuman, and Merle dropped like a stone to the ground.

Carol was on her feet in seconds, and Daryl realized she had put her full weight down on purpose, not even dizzy at Merle's attack on her. Viciously, she kicked him in the stomach, just once.

Daryl was there seconds later, and she turned to him, face bruised and swollen.

"You okay?" Daryl asked.

She nodded, "He hit like a girl."

Daryl wished in that moment that they were normal, and he could have laughed at her spirit. But they weren't normal, they were both fucked up, and it must have been the truth that Merle's hits had been nothing compared to Ed's. Daryl had been hit by Merle enough times in his life to know that Merle could hit with the force of a semi truck, and a echo of fury and sadness at Ed came through him.

"Daryl..." her voice was uncertain, "you don't have to kill him."

Daryl stared at her, watching as her hands twisted. Even bruised and hurting, Carol was watching out for him. She didn't want him to kill his brother, didn't want him to have to smash his face in with a pickaxe for age old hurts, the way she had done her husband. He nodded gently.

"I ain't gonna. Jus' gonna drive him a long fuckin' way away." He told her, watching the relief on her face.

She smiled gingerly, her face not letting her grin get too large because of it's swelling.

Daryl swung back to the group, where practically everyone had guns at their sides and grimaces on their faces. Rick approached him uncertainly, and Daryl knew he was about to hear all sorts of opinions he didn't want or need.

"Go inside." Daryl told Carol, "Get cleaned up, ain't needin' ya to have a concussion or some shit when I get back."

Carol glanced at him, her eyes uncertain. She knew something was wrong, but she followed his orders, probably too used to listening to orders to say no. Daryl despised the thought that he was directing her like some sort of military marshall, but at the same time, he was proud of the fire and fight she had shown Merle.

Damn girl was tougher than anyone gave her credit for.

"Daryl," Rick's voice was pleading, "you can't let him live. He'll come back, he knows where we are, he wants revenge."

Daryl turned to Rick, aware that Merle was being trussed up like a pig by T Dog and Shane, and tossed into his truck. Rick's dark eyes were worried, and exhausted, and Daryl realized that he was making this entirely Daryl's decision. He would follow whatever Daryl said.

Daryl shook his head, "Rick, I ain't sayin' this again, and it better not ever fuckin' leave yer lips, not even to fuckin' Lori. I don't want Carol t'know."

Rick nodded, "Not even Lori. I promise."

"I ain't lettin' 'im live. He's a dead man. I'll be back in a couple of days."

Rick scrubbed his face with his hand, his expression tortured, as if he despised that the world they had found themselves in had forced them to do this. Daryl abruptly realized that Rick would have been a good cop, back in his old life. Daryl usually hated cops, his experiences with them being limited to guys like Shane, who liked the power. He had never met one like Rick, who honestly believed in goodness, and protecting that.

"I'll keep them safe." Rick saluted him, "See you soon."

Daryl shut the door to the truck as he slid into the seat, his unconscious brother beside him. Blood was soaking into his shirt, and Daryl debated on fixing him up before he left. He decided against it, because if Merle bled out it would save Daryl a bullet. His mood disintegrated into full on fury and nostalgia, because Daryl was now headed back to a place he had planned never to return to.

His family's house.


	17. Healing

**Chapter 17: Healing**

A/N: Welcome to the very last chapter of Hero, where we get a little insight into Daryl, a little angst, a little action, and most importantly, some fluff :) There will be an epilogue up soon. Review please!

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><p>It hadn't change a bit; the panelling on the side was still old and a sickly yellow color -like jaundice, like sickness, and like a faded happiness, that no one ever got the chance to enjoy- and there was still the broken window that Merle had hit with a baseball. Their father had nearly killed him for that one, making Merle cut his own switch from their old poplar tree. Daryl hated it, hated everything about it... except he didn't, not entirely, because with every awful painful memory, there was another good one. The broken window, tempered by the tire swing Merle had tied up one summer, never complaining of giving Daryl endless pushes. The skid marks on the driveway Merle had caused on their getaway were still there; they had been trying to escape walkers swarming the only home they had ever known. The chain on the side of the house where Merle had tied up the puppy he had brought home for Daryl.<p>

Daryl left Merle in the truck, locking the doors. He was confident he wasn't going anywhere. He hadn't moved much, and Daryl had stopped checking him, afraid to find him dead, but afraid to find him alive as well. The house was beckoning him, despite the fact that Daryl didn't really want to go back in it.

The door was broken on it's hinges, and Daryl didn't find a single walker in the whole goddamned place, as if even the dead had known it was cursed. The kitchen was still a cheerful blue color, a remnant from when Daryl's mother had attempted to make a happy home. Of course, the dents in the wall from his father's fists destroyed the illusion.

He walked through the whole place, his entire life flashing before him in sequence, misery and pain and happiness and childhood. He found his father's room, the smell the cancer had caused -rot, sickness, relief- mixing with the fading smell of whisky. Daryl walked to his nightstand, opening the drawer. He knew exactly what he was looking for, and he found them exactly where his father had always left them.

The only photo he had of his mother; long brown hair, dark green eyes, much like Merle's. She had been a pretty lady, and he had always wondered why she had ended up with his father, who had been one hell of an asshole.

The other photo was of him and Merle. They were maybe five and ten, and Merle had his arm slung around Daryl, his other hand holding a fat rabbit. Daryl was holding a pistol, a handgun his father had bought him. His smile was bigger than the sun, and he was staring at Merle, not the rabbit. Daryl could remember the moment his father had taken the photo, probably the only photo he'd ever taken in his whole goddamned life. It was seared into his memory, because Merle had taken him out hunting, for the very first time, and Daryl had managed to get a rabbit. Merle hadn't said a word, just congratulated him.

In that moment, Daryl had thought Merle was the greatest man to ever live. He could never imagine hating him, never imagine killing him; could never imagine Merle hurting him either.

And, if it hadn't been for their father, Merle probably would have grown up good, grown up to be the man Daryl had always thought he would be. If Merle hadn't been beaten and broken, and spat on his entire fucking life, then maybe he would have known something different than hurting.

Daryl shut the door on their father's room, walking to the last room in the hallway. The door was shut, and Daryl opened it almost reverently. The beds were shoved up against the opposite walls, and clothes were strewn across the floor from their attempt to pack and run. Daryl went to his side of the room first, grabbing a bag and putting more clothes into it, bringing everything he had forgotten the first time around. When he was finished he went to Merle's side of the room, and he grabbed the few things he knew Merle would want with him. The baseball they had played endless hours of catch with, the necklace from the only girl to ever date and love him, and the single card he had from their mother.

Daryl shut the door once more, knowing that this time he was leaving forever, and there would be no second returns. He took his two packs to the truck where Merle was still lying on the seat. His eyes were opened (the same fucking green as their mothers, probably the reason their father had hated him) and staring at Daryl.

Daryl set the packs on the ground and shrugged at his brother. He drove around back of the house, heading towards the old willow tree at the back of their property. He stopped there, turning the truck off. The tree had grown even more, and it was about the most beautiful thing on the land.

He pulled the gag out of Merle's mouth, and Merle didn't say a goddamn word after being released. Daryl cut the ties on him, knowing that he had lost so much blood he was practically useless.

"So." Daryl said, staring at his brother.

Merle shrugged, "Y'know yer gonna do it, in the end."

Daryl nodded, "Yeah. I was hopin' ya could talk me outta it."

Merle stared at him, as if he was bewildered by the fact that Daryl didn't actually want to kill his brother. "Why the hell would I do tha'? Y'know I'll come after ya. That black asshole needs t'die, along with the cop."

"I know." Daryl told him. "But as much as I hate ya, I can't forge' all the times you took the hits from him."

The truck fell deadly silent, and Daryl knew that he had brought up their father, and the fact that Merle had so often sacrificed himself for Daryl. They had never spoke of it before, because Daryl knew Merle would have taken the words out on him, and called him a pussy bitch.

Merle opened the door, and Daryl just about had a heart attack bouncing out of his side and racing to Merle's, thinking he was trying to escape. He had nothing to fear though, Merle had only slid to his feet, leaning heavily against the truck. He walked towards the old willow tree, staring up at the sun, squinting at the glare.

"You remembered." Merle muttered, "Well, shit."

Daryl shrugged, not willing to voice the fact that he had wasted gas and time driving to this precise spot, knowing that Merle had always wanted to be buried beneath the old tree. Their mother had been. Their father had been tossed in a box then into a cemetery across the state.

"I ain't wantin' you to dig a hole. I wanna sit against the damn tree." Merle told him, his eyes flashing with an all-too-familiar anger.

He was making it too difficult, too hard. Daryl should have shot him back at the acreage, where the anger had still been clouding his thoughts. In this way, Merle was showing him exactly the brother he could have been. The brother he had been, some of the time. Daryl couldn't fucking shoot him if he wasn't being an asshole.

Merle stuck his hand out, and it hung there, a truce that Daryl hated to accept.

"You ain't gonna tell her ya killed me, are ya?" Merle asked softly.

Daryl shook his head, "Naw, she wanted ya to live. I ain't gonna tell her I shot ya."

"Good." Merle said succinctly, and grabbed Daryl's hand, shaking it firmly.

Daryl frowned, "I'm sorry, fer what it's worth."

"I ain't." Merle told him, and then he tugged Daryl into his body, his hand flying around his back to find the gun Daryl had tucked there, yanking it out. Daryl stumbled back, unsure if he wanted to get away or attack his brother, who now held the weapon and all the power.

Merle grinned at him, a total shit-eating grin, one that bespoke of pain and absolute fucking insanity. Daryl wondered if the pain had made Merle crazy, or if the world had done that.

"Last time I'm takin' the hit for ya." Merle told him, then turned the gun to his temple, and shot himself.

His body crumpled, and Daryl grabbed for it, wanting at once to hold it up, to heal Merle, to save him. It was too late though; far too late, especially as blood and bone and brain leaked onto Daryl's clothes. Merle was heavy, and Daryl sunk to his knees as he held his body, his forehead sinking into his chest. He didn't cry, knowing that tears would be nothing but disrespect on Merle's body.

Daryl sat like that until he couldn't feel his legs, and then he finally dragged Merle to the tree he had demanded to die under. He went for the truck, and he grabbed the bag of things Merle had saved and hoarded his entire life.

The baseball - "Thanks."

The necklace - no words for this one, for it wasn't Daryl's memory.

The card - a woman who hadn't known him, but who had obviously loved her sons. "Say hi fer me."

Daryl left him there, the sun setting and making him glow like some sort of fucking angel, which Merle had never been, not even upon his death. Still, Daryl liked to think that Merle seemed happy; happier than he had in life, anyway. Hell, he probably was happier, to be gone, to be free, to be with his mother.

Daryl got in the truck, and drove away, the night coming too quickly, and heralding the ending of his second day. He had taken too long, Carol and Rick would be worried. Still, in this, Daryl would be selfish. He stopped to dive in a pond, scrubbing Merle's blood from his body, and changing into clothes from his house. He soaked his old shirt and washed the blood off his truck's seat. He left the clothes in the ditch, and clambered back into the truck.

He was on his way home now, on his way back to his family. He wondered if the thought of Merle would always haunt him so badly, or if it would fade with time. He had been a selfish asshole, to the bitter end, but he had also been caring. Daryl didn't have to lie to Carol, didn't have to pretend Merle still lived, nor that he had been slain by his hand. Merle was dead, Merle was gone, Carol was safe, and Daryl couldn't be haunted by this fact because he hadn't killed his brother.

Except, that was a lie too, wasn't it? Because now everywhere Daryl fucking looked he saw a baseball, and a tire swing, and burgers that Merle made on Fridays, and the fact that Merle would never be his best man.

Jesus, Daryl probably wouldn't have even asked him if he had ever gotten married, but still, it was no longer even in the realm of possibilities. Now Merle was gone, and Rick would never understand that he hadn't always been a bad guy, and Carol would never get to heal Merle with her understanding of his abuse, and Merle himself would never get the chance to find some sort of peace or stability in this world.

He found the gates without an issue, and he saw that they had been left open, despite the danger. Rick had been expecting him, and it was nice to be expected and depended on.

The truck's headlights carved the path up the driveway, and came to rest on the front of the house, illuminating the window where it looked like T Dog watching. He waved, and Daryl didn't hesitate in getting out of the truck with his bag, marching into the house. It was silent, and T Dog came down the stairs gently, eyeing him up and down.

"Hey man." T Dog greeted, "Glad you're home."

_Home_. Jesus, Daryl barely had understood the meaning before yesterday, and now he seemed to have two of them.

"Hey T, good to be back." Daryl murmured. It wasn't entirely a lie.

T Dog glanced to the door Daryl had been heading for, concern and compassion lining his face, "She's been going crazy with worry, women, I tell you. Anyway, she'll be happy you're back. Gotta go back to watch now, I'll see you in the morning."

He raced back up the stairs, leaving Daryl to wonder at his words. Now for the moment when Daryl would face the consequences of his actions. He made it to the door and opened it gently, the moonlight through the boarded up slats of their windows lighting her face. Daryl shut the door with an audible click, and her eyes flew open. She sat up, panicked.

"Jus' me." Daryl said softly, dropping his crossbow and slipping off his boots.

She flew out of the bed, bare feet crossing their carpet in seconds. Daryl had never seen her wear a nightdress, but he definitely appreciated the way it's thin material showed the silhouette of her body. Her hands were on him seconds later, flying around checking for injuries he obviously didn't have.

"I'm fine woman." he muttered.

Her breath caught and her arms slipped around him, holding him to her carefully. Daryl forced himself to breathe, unsure if she would start crying on him, and terrified that his absence had caused the return of the broken woman she had been after Sophia.

She cleared her throat and pulled away from him, "You okay?" Her words mirrored his from after Merle's attack, and Daryl searched her face where the bruises were yellowing.

He nodded, "Glad to be back. Tired."

Carol smiled gently, and took the bag from his hand, setting it on the floor. "Come on, let's get some sleep."

He removed his shirt and pants and followed her into their bed in his boxers, feeling both calm and uptight. Scared, and at ease. He slid into the sheets, letting Carol's legs twine with his as she moved into him. She looked tired.

"Where did you get the shirt?" she asked softly.

He frowned, "Doesn't matter."

The instant rebuff surprised her and she pulled her hand away from his chest. "Sorry, I didn't know it was a secret."

"Well, I ain't gotta tell ya everythin'." He said.

She sighed and rolled over, her back to him. "No, you don't, Daryl. I'm glad you're home."

The room was silent for maybe five minutes before Daryl couldn't take it anymore. He knew she was awake, and he was swimming with guilt, anger, love, frustration, any goddamn emotion he could name. And he had never been good with words, so how could he possibly explain that to Carol?

"Merle's dead." He said, his voice harsh in the darkness.

Carol whipped around, tears filling her eyes once more, "Oh, Daryl..."

"I didn't kill 'em." He told her.

She gasped, "Walkers?"

"No." he went silent, unsure how she would react. "We went home. He took my gun and shot himself."

Her hand was back, reaching for his chest and settling over his racing heartbeat. She moved in closer to him, letting her cheek rest where her hand was. He could feel her tears.

"I'm so sorry."

It was all she could say, and Daryl knew that it was enough that she meant it when so many others wouldn't have. He slipped one arm around her, and settled her as tightly as he could against him, and let her heal him with her silence and acceptance, the way she always had.

"He didn't wan' me to tell ya." Daryl murmured, breaking the tragic silence.

Carol shifted, her eyes coming to rest on his face. "Tell me what?"

"That he was dead. He didn't wan' ya to know."

Carol nodded, her eyes welling with tears, "He wasn't a bad man."

"Not always." Daryl agreed.

Carol turned her head so she could kiss his chest, her tears scalding his skin, "You loved him."

"He was my brother." Daryl retorted.

She shrugged, gently, "I'm glad I met him. Even under the circumstances."

"He was like Ed." Daryl hissed, "You should have hated him."

Carol laughed softly, as if his conclusion was the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever said to her. "Ed wasn't all bad either you know. I hated him, most of the time. But there were times when he was kind, when he was the man I thought I had married."

Memories flashed through her brain: Ed wearing a suit and surprising her with flowers; the speech he had given when he proposed; the way that he would give her a new book every week, always addressed to "the most beautiful woman alive".

No, Ed hadn't always been cruel. He had flashes of kindness, and love. Probably the same way Merle would have. Something in life had made them cruel.

Daryl sighed, "I wished I coulda saved 'im."

Carol smiled, "You can't save them all, Daryl. All you can do is try, and you did." Her voice was absolutely sure, full of blind faith. She believed that he had tried to save them -Sophia and Ed. Even if he hadn't been able to, he had tried, and she thought that was heroic enough. He was a good man.

Goddamn, she had saved him in every possible way he could have ever been saved.

"I love ya'." Daryl's voice was near silent in the darkness, saying words that Carol had honestly never thought she would hear from him. And that would have been okay, to never hear that he loved her, as long as he _stayed _with her; but to hear them? Carol's heart raced, and the tears she had been trying to control fell wildly out of her eyes.

"I love you too," she whispered back. Happiness bloomed within Carol, more happiness than she ever could have imagined; at the end of the world, at the end of everything, Carol was happy, and safe, and loved.

And Daryl was beside her.


	18. Relative

**Chapter 18: Relative**

A/N: Oh dear, the epilogue that took a year basically! I probably would have never even gotten around to it, especially since the last chapter resolved everything and ended happily, but I recently got a review asking about it. So here it is, the epilogue of Hero!

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><p>Happiness, as it turned out, was nearly as relative as safety. It was <em>not safe<em> to drink and drive. It was _not safe_ to lean over the railings on bridges. It was definitely_ not safe _to marry an abusive egomaniac with a bad temper. Still, Carol had done all of these things; some when she was younger, and seat belts were radical and stupid, and some when she was older, and the prospect of being alone forever was far worse than being beaten.

Still, the most _not safe_ thing in the entire world was probably the zombie apocalypse, and so far it was turning out pretty damn well for her. She had friends, family, a beautiful house and property, and a pretty incredible person to share it all with.

However, this was when the relativity came in; happiness was fluid. It constantly changed depending on the situation, and Carol had experienced more happiness and more heartbreak in the past year than she had in her entire life.

Safely escaping the danger zone of walkers? High point. Meeting new friends at the quarry camp? High point.

Ed dying? This one could be argued either way, but for the sake of the relativity Carol was willing to say it was a fairly low point in her life to put a pickaxe in his skull. This was only a minor lie.

Daryl letting her put said pick axe in dead husbands skull while looking at her like the most interesting person on the planet? High point, definitely. Losing Sophia? The lowest point of her life. The farm and the people there? High point, dampened only by Sophia's extended absence. Daryl searching for Sophia? High point.

Sophia walking out of that barn? It didn't bear thinking on. Carol didn't even realize past that point that happiness could ever exist for her. Not in this lifetime, with walkers and dirt staining every inch of her life, and her dead husband, and far beyond dead daughter.

So now, when she was standing in the kitchen of a beautiful house, dressed in the tightest jeans she had owned since university, Carol was moderately surprised. She wasn't exactly surprised that she was cooking -a task she enjoyed- or that the sun was warming her back. She wasn't surprised that her neck was starting to sweat with the newly grown hair that settled there, or that she was unconsciously humming.

These were all fairly normal things for her, these days.

What she was surprised about was the fact that she had lost everything she had ever owned and loved, and yet she was happier than she had ever been in her life. She wished Sophia was there, to see everything they had made for themselves, and continued to fight for. Sophia would have loved the acreage, with it's huge lawn, and ever-growing vegetable patch. Carl would have shown her around, and Daryl probably would have taught her to hunt and clean kills if she wanted to learn.

So, yes. Happiness was relative.

"Carol?" Lori's voice was stressed, "Oh, thank god. Here, I'll do the vegetables for dinner, just please, please, please take her outside or something."

Lori thrust the tiny baby girl into Carol's outstretched arms. Judy was annoyed and crying, and Carol wondered at the fact that Lori could even let her daughter out of her arms for a second. Carol, had she another chance, would _never_ pass up the opportunity to be with her child. Still, she happily took Lori's baby and strolled across the living room to the front door.

Judy gurgled in joy as soon as the outside air hit her face, and Carol cooed down at her. The baby was beautiful, all olive skin and dark hair; features feminine enough that they could come from Lori, but everyone thought they came from Shane.

Oh, but that stung a little. Shane's death had been no surprise, especially not to Carol, since Daryl had been predicting it for months. As Lori's belly had grown, so had Shane's temper and restlessness. The raid he had been leading had been for formula, a crib, and prenatal vitamins. Shane had gotten bit getting all the gear, and Rick had gotten the gear home without Shane.

The irony was unmistakable; Shane was forever sacrificing himself for Lori and Carl, yet Rick was the one who always came through. Carol wondered if Shane had realized in his last moments that sometimes coming home empty handed meant more than not coming home at all.

It didn't matter much though, the camp was happier without him -recall, happiness is relative.

Carol found Rick and Daryl at the vegetable garden, helping Herschel till soil. They all looked dirty, and exhausted, and _safe_. Carol hadn't seen a more amazing sight in months.

Rick grinned at her and immediately stole Judy from her arms. It had never mattered to Rick that Judy looked more like his old partner than himself; it only mattered that she squealed when she saw him and latched onto his thumb like it was the only anchor in the entire galaxy.

Carol could recall the fight Lori and Rick had gotten into a few months back, in their bedroom upstairs, which unfortunately was right above Carol and Daryl's. It had been a full on screaming match, with crying and items being smashed; Carol and Daryl had listened to it silently for nearly an hour.

Eventually, Rick had ended the whole thing by yelling that it didn't matter whose baby it was, it was his _goddammit_, and the only thing that mattered was that Lori was the mom, Lori mattered, and he would love them _both_.

Things had gone silent, and all the tension from the upstairs bedroom had seemed to float straight down to settle into Carol's room, hovering in the silence between them. Daryl had been shifting uncomfortably, a sure tell that he wanted to say something but despised the fact that he felt he needed to talk about it.

Eventually, he had managed to open with a surprised confession that he had always figured he'd be having those kind of fights with anyone he ended up with; loud, violent, and mostly mean, with a side of passion. Carol had laughed, and the tension had eased quickly out of the room to be replaced with slick kisses, and smiles eaten up by satisfaction.

It wasn't as if they didn't fight. They did. In fact, they fought most of the time they were together, but it was okay that way. They bickered, and argued over the most mundane things; it comforted them both to know that they could disagree and no one was going to beat them for it.

The big fights always came when Daryl was leaving on a raid or a hunting trip. Carol wasn't stupid. She knew that raids were necessary, and Daryl was an asset to have on any hunting party. It didn't make her any happier knowing he was disappearing for however long, going who knows where, and she would never truly know what happened to him if he never came home.

Daryl did come home though, always. He almost always brought her something too, a bribe that he didn't really need to get back in her good graces. He had brought her jeans, books, a leather jacket, boots, and even a purple dress. The fact that he had remembered how she desired those things still made her head spin. Daryl had changed in incredible ways.

He still preferred squirrel over rabbit. He didn't like big groups, or being the leader. He still refused to bring a knife anywhere near the bed. Carol still liked cooking dinner. She preferred doing laundry outside over shooting a gun. Carol still flinched when he snuck up on her. Some things wouldn't change.

What _had_ changed was the way Daryl handled Judy. The first day he had looked even more shell shocked than Rick, and refused to even go near the screaming child. He had disappeared into the woods for hours every day for a week, and come home with no food. Carol had ignored his behavior, figuring that babies probably freaked him right out, and he thought he would hurt it or some stupid shit. After nearly a week, he had marched into the house, straight up to Rick and asked to hold '_it'_.

Rick handed Judy to him, told him her name, and that was all she wrote. Daryl adored the baby now, even if he easily passed her off when she cried. He always brought him trinkets for her as well as Carol, and Judy absolutely lit up anytime he walked in a room.

Carol had never been more devastated at Sophia's loss. On one hand, Sophia was in a better place, and there was much less to worry about. On the other hand, Daryl was incredible with Judy, and Carol could only imagine how positive it could have been for Sophia to find someone in camp who didn't smack her mother around.

"She's gone." The words drew her back to reality, where Rick was holding Judy and laughing. Daryl was eyeing her almost anxiously, and Carol realized she had been totally ignoring them all in favor of her own thoughts.

She flushed, "Sorry! I was thinking."

Daryl frowned, "Probably dehydrated or some shit. I'll take ya in. Ya good, Rick?"

Rick smiled, "No worries, I'll hang with the Judester."

Carol rolled her eyes when Daryl snuck his hand under her elbow, as if she could fall at any moment. He was still a little overprotective, but she didn't hate it, and didn't discourage it.

"I'm fine, you know, just day dreaming."

Daryl sighed, "They ain't good daydreams, are they?" His voice was gravelly, low and sad, in a way she hadn't heard in a long time.

"No, they're very pleasant. I was thinking that I was incredibly happy." Carol explained, her eyes catching his, almost in amusement.

Daryl nearly tripped at her words, and he eyed her like she had gone completely off her rocker. The look wasn't uncommon between them, used often in the days of the farm after the barn incident. He had thought she was crazy then, biding her time to get herself killed. She didn't appreciate the look now, but she could hardly blame him. She had given it to him for weeks after Merle had pulled his suicide stunt.

To get it now was still a little insulting.

Daryl seemed cautious, "Carol, you know that today..."

"Is Sophia's birthday?" Carol finished for him, "Yes. I know that."

They couldn't be exactly sure, of course, but some electronics still worked that had the date on them, and as near as they could figure it, it was about the end of June. Sophia had been born the 26th.

Daryl frowned, "I ain't never gonna get this women shit figured, am I?"

Carol smiled, "Probably not, but if you're wondering why I'm in such a good mood, it's because everything turned out pretty good in the end. Most of us are still here, we have a few new additions to the group, and I managed to get stuck with you. Which is a pretty good deal, as it turns out."

Daryl didn't outwardly react to her words, but Carol knew he was pleased by them. Daryl was, in many ways, very easy to please. They were similarly fucked up, and Carol knew better than anyone that he just wanted to be accepted and safe. Any type of compliment she gave him was tucked away for reference later, and always appreciated. Carol knew it, knew it by the way he flushed when she said something nice, or his eyes crinkled at the edges, like he wanted to smile. She knew it by the way he always demanded she tell him she loved him when they had sex, and sometimes even just before bed, because _you never know_.

"Yeah, well, you ain't terrible." He grumbled.

She pulled at the collar of his shirt and Daryl came willingly, drawn to her lips. He kissed her thoroughly, ignoring the fact that they were in plain view. She smiled at his reaction, and it was no trouble at all to slip her hands under his shirt on to his stomach.

"I love you, Daryl." She told him, her words impossibly soft. They were true, more true than she could even actually explain. He was perfection; strong, kind, and handsome. Daryl had looked for her daughter, had saved Carol from a herd at the stables, had watched his own brother die; he was a hero with every right to the title.

Carol's thoughts were showing on her face again, because he was flushed, and his blue eyes avoiding hers.

"Go get some water, or sumthin'." He muttered to her, gruff words covering the way his thumb was slowly sweeping the inside of her arm. She didn't need the words, had never even asked for them. She hadn't asked him for anything really, but he still knew, and he still got them for her.

This man was a hero; take away the slang, the background, and the house, and Daryl Dixon was a good man, plain and simple. No amount of _not safe_ could change it, and no amount of negativity managed to change the happiness they had found together.

He had saved her in every way she could possibly have been saved.

Carol turned with a smile, heading back to the house, a newly found sassiness in her walk. She could feel his eyes on her, undressing her from those tight jeans. He had been correct when he had said she would be devastating in those types of clothing.

"Carol," his voice made her swing back around, smiling, "I love ya', too."

The words were soft, and full of tenderness. Carol grinned at him, and he turned away quickly, embarrassed by the omission as always.

Well, maybe she had saved him too.


End file.
